


london calling

by fleurdeliser, ohnoktcsk, tuesdaysgone



Category: Comics Industry RPF, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe, Comics Industry RPF Side Pairings We Refuse To Tag Because The Characters Google Themselves, Extremely Unrealistic Grasp of the Publishing Industry, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-05
Updated: 2013-12-05
Packaged: 2018-01-03 13:15:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 28,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1070877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fleurdeliser/pseuds/fleurdeliser, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohnoktcsk/pseuds/ohnoktcsk, https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuesdaysgone/pseuds/tuesdaysgone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gerard feels like his life needs to change, so he moves to London. After years of hard work, he gets a book deal with a press that will finally allow him to write exactly the book he's always wanted to write. When he meets his new editor, Grant Morrison, he's surprised at how much they get along.</p>
            </blockquote>





	london calling

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Ande for betaing this and putting up with the fact that we utterly failed to name anything that needed naming.

Gerard is so tired and simultaneously excited that he’s shaking a little. He couldn’t sleep on the plane and now that he’s landed at Heathrow, he has to figure out the tube and meet with his new landlady. He’s vaguely aware that he’s smiling. He probably looks deranged. But _London._ The last two weeks have felt unreal, like a dream he was floating through. But for some reason, the London sidewalk feels solid under his feet.

Getting sober was the hardest thing he’s ever done. In comparison, calling in a favor and getting himself set up with a job in London was easy peasy. He’s glad for his SVA portfolio. It had smoothed the way considerably, even though the design firm job isn’t his ultimate goal in life. It doesn’t matter. Every step he takes in this new city is a step away from the mess he’d left in Jersey, heading somewhere new.  

He retrieves his two big suitcases and finds the tube station. He spends a few minutes studying maps and figuring out where he’s going and then gets on the train. Every time he hears “mind the gap” he has to grin. Transferring from Piccadilly to Central lines is a bit hairy with his two suitcases, but he manages. He gets a cab at his final station because there’s no way in fuck he’s going any further on public transportation with two huge suitcases. 

The cab driver chatters on at him the rest of the way to his new flat, and Gerard tries to keep up.

“What brings you to London, then?” the cab driver asks.

“Life. I’m moving here for a while. I needed a change,” Gerard replies. 

The cabbie pulls up in front of what Gerard assumes is his building. Gerard pays him from the pounds he got at JFK and gets out. His new landlady meets him at the door, clucks at the state of his hair, and insists on helping him manhandle his suitcases up the four flights of stairs. She also very happily sits down and helps him sketch out a map of where to find some necessities nearby before handing him keys and leaving him to explore his new flat.

It’s furnished, which is good because he definitely couldn’t afford to buy all the shit he’d need. The view out the front is the somewhat dirty, Ilford street he lives on, but out back there’s a nice little garden down on the ground and a whole bunch of rooftops. He should probably nap, but he’ll feel less twitchy if he goes out and gets a new phone and arranges for Internet service. And he’ll need to find a library or an Internet cafe so he can tell everyone he’s alive. 

He has to stop for a second and just grin out the window. _London_. He’s both scared shitless and weirdly calm about the whole thing. He shrugs his jacket and scarf back on and grabs his new key ring. There is a cafe on the high street near the tube stop. He ducks inside and sorts out paying for some Internet time and a sandwich and sends emails to his family and his one friend in London. His next stop is the first mobile phone shop he sees. 

That’s the rest of the afternoon sorted out, more or less. He’ll need to start unpacking, of course, and make sure he has clothes in decent shape to wear to work. He’s happy to have the Blackberry, though. He can reply to the email responses he gets and have a phone number if he needs it. 

“Okay,” he murmurs to himself, as he’s headed back to his new flat. “Okay.” It’s still early enough once he gets back to call the telecom company and set up service. By the time he’s off the phone, it’s getting to be dinner. He really needs to go buy some staples, but he’s in the land of curry takeout, so he lets himself go pick some up. He feels good about everything. Really good. 

There’s a email from Mikey in his inbox when he gets home. It’s brief, because it’s Mikey. He says that he and their mom had worried until they’d heard from Gerard, and to remember to check for record stores.

Gerard grins and sends back an email saying he’s fine. He gives Mikey his number and tells him he’ll try to actually call soon, and when he finishes eating, he forces himself to write a thousand words before going to bed. 

Not bad for his first day as a resident of London, he thinks. 

*

_Two Years Later_

“And people accuse _me_ of being pretentious,” Gerard says to Jamie and sips his coke. “You think the only good music is music only five people have heard.”

Jamie sniffs. “Just because I have taste-” he starts, but Kieron is already rolling his eyes so hard it has to hurt. 

“We all have our things, Gerard,” Kieron says. Gerard ruffles a hand through his hair. “It’s still bright white, you freaky bastard,” Kieron tells him.

“That was the point,” Gerard replies with a grin. 

“Well, you certainly make a statement. I’d say something about you reading too many scary stories, but given the circumstances…” Jamie tells him.

“And you read too many music blogs.”

“Touché,” Jamie says. 

“So how’s the scary story _writing_ going, Gee?” Kieron asks. 

Gerard shrugs. “Pretty well, I guess. I’ve had another short story published by Hammer.” He knows he should sound more excited about it—being published, especially by an imprint of one of the big six, is a big deal. It’s a huge step towards his goal of making it as a writer, rather than a graphic designer with a secret identity. 

“That’s great,” Kieron tells him. “Really, mate.”

Gerard smiles. “Yeah. Should be out in a few months. It’s not… I’m not saying I’m not proud of that story. I had fun writing it and I think it’s good. But it’s not quite what I want to be writing, you know? Gotta pay my dues, though.”

Jamie raises his pint in salute. “Hear, hear.” 

“I think the operative word there is pay,” Kieron says, always pragmatic.

“True enough,” Gerard says. “And I have a decent enough contract. Dream is always to quit the day job, though.”

“Well, talking of horror stories, did you hear what happened to Jamie at the shops last week?” Kieron asks. Gerard grins and settles in, because the affronted look on Jamie’s face suggests that this is going to be good.

*

The local is close enough to his flat that he can walk home, easy, even on a night like this one when it’s pissing down rain. In the bad old days, he wouldn’t have cared about getting soaked, because he would have been too drunk to notice. Now, he tugs up the collar on his jacket and gives thanks for the shop awnings that offer a measure of protection from the weather. He has to be at the firm offices early tomorrow morning for a meeting with a client, and he wants to go over the logo he’s pitching one more time before he calls it a night. 

He makes sure he has all the digital files and folios sorted and tucked away in his briefcase. It’s all so…corporate. He actually likes his job. Likes turning a company into a recognizable brand. He just likes writing more. He checks his watch. Late enough to call his mom. She’ll want to hear about the latest story being published anyway. 

His mom’s voice is so Jersey it actually hurts; a little tug in Gerard’s heart that he figures will probably never go away. Not that he would want it to. She is, predictably excited that he’s being published again. “Will it be out by Christmas? I could give copies to everyone.”

“Ma, it’s a short story about a stock broker getting eaten by a werewolf,” Gerard reminds her. “Aunt Gina would have a heart attack.”

His mom laughs. “But it’s so fucking funny when she asks if you’ll ever write something nice and wholesome for her to read.”

“It’s like she doesn’t even know me,” Gerard agrees dryly.

“She always was the black sheep in the family.” There’s a pause that’s definitely his mother taking a drag from her cigarette. 

Gerard laughs. “True. What are you and dad up to?” 

“More of the same. Enjoying our retirement. Thinking about going to Florida for a few weeks,” she replies. 

“Think Miami can handle the Ways?” Gerard asks as he opens his work email. 

“Better me and your dad than you. You picked the right country to avoid the sun, dear.”

Gerard purposefully does not look out the window, where the rain is still coming down in buckets. “C’mon, Ma, that wasn’t the reason. Or, uh. It wasn’t the _only_ reason.”

“I know, sweetie,” she says. “You’ve done well for yourself there and we’re proud of you.” 

“Done your motherly duty for the year?” he jokes. 

“You’re a grownup,” she reminds him, sounding unperturbed. “You proved that you could do any fucking thing you put your mind to after your grandmother died.”

“Now let’s see if I can live off my writing and quit my day job,” Gerard says as he frowns at the logo file. 

“One step at a time,” she tells him. 

He smiles despite himself. He knows a lot about steps.

They talk for a little while longer: about Jersey, about Mikey’s new job at a record label in New York, about the next-door neighbor’s ill-fated flirtations with the mailman. When Gerard finally hangs up, he turns out the lights and crawls into bed, and he lets the sound of the rain put him to sleep. 

*

A few weeks later, Kieron calls to invite him over for dinner. “Warren is in town and he wants to spend some time with everyone.”

“He’s emerged from hibernation,” Gerard hears Jamie add in the background.

“We lured him out with the good whiskey,” Kieron corrects, and Gerard can hear the smug grin in his voice. 

Gerard laughs. “Of course I’ll come.” 

“We’ll save you a Shirley Temple,” Kieron promises. 

He hangs up and wanders downstairs to check the post. While he’s down there, his next door neighbor lets himself in and gives Gerard a smile. “Fanmail?” Nick asks, with a cheeky grin. 

“My mom’s probably hoarding it all in Jersey,” Gerard replies. “Don’t tell me you’re just getting in?”

Nick rolls his eyes. “Of course I am. We’re not all old men, Gee.”

Gerard huffs. “Fuck you, old.”

“You’re adorable,” Nick tells him. 

“Assholes who call me old don’t get to compliment me the next minute,” Gerard says. 

“What? You’re an adorable old man!”

Not for the first time, Gerard momentarily regrets having gone for the white-blond; Nick has always enjoyed giving him good-natured shit about secretly being a pensioner, and he’d been positively _gleeful_ the first time he’d seen Gerard’s new hair. “Supposed to look spectral,” Gerard had grumbled. Nick had made some airy comment about method acting and invited Gerard up for a cuppa. 

Gerard could use some tea now, but Nick will be for bed, so he just huffs. “Sleep well, Nicholas,” he says in his best pompous voice. Nick blows him a kiss and disappears up the stairs. Gerard takes the post back upstairs to read through over breakfast.

Gerard is looking forward to dinner with Warren. He recently fired his publisher right as they were about to publish one of his short stories. Through secondhand info, it sounds like he’s really happy with his new place so far. That turns his thoughts back to the email he’d had earlier in the week from his editor at Hammer, and he scowls at his eggs and toast. By his count, this is at least the third time they’ve turned down his pitch for the novel he’s been working on.

It’s a good idea and what he’s got already is _good_. Just… not to their tastes, apparently. His mom likes to remind him that a bunch of publishers turned down _Harry Potter_ too, but it doesn’t really help. 

Well. He doesn’t have to go into the office today, and he’s mostly caught up on his corporate projects; today is for writing. But first, another cup of tea. Mikey makes fun of him for “going native,” and it’s kind of true. He drinks coffee when he’s feeling homesick now. 

These days, that doesn’t happen nearly as often as it used to. He’s supposed to meet Jamie in Dalston to do some shopping. Maybe he’ll get a new sketchbook and some more markers. He’s in the mood for character sketches. 

He grabs his tea and takes it over to the desk where his computer is waiting. He has a few good hours to work on his next short story for Hammer. If this is what he has to do to pay his dues and write the stuff he really wants to write, then so be it.

*

Jamie and Kieron have a nice flat in Islington. Gerard strolls slowly up their street, thinking about the night to come. He honestly can’t wait to meet Warren. He’s heard many things about Warren since he met Jamie and Kieron, but it never worked out that they could actually _meet_. He’s actually one of Gerard’s writing heroes, so he’s also pretty damn nervous. 

“Look who showed his face!” Jamie exclaims, when he answers Gerard’s knock. He takes the baguette that Gerard had picked up on the way—his contribution to dinner—and spirits it away towards the kitchen. Kieron slings an arm around his shoulders and leads him inside.

“You really don’t come around often enough, Gee,” Kieron tells him. Gerard grins. “I know East London is practically on the other side of the world and all, but that’s no excuse.”

They walk into the the kitchen where Jamie is standing with another man—this one with an impressive beard. “Warren Ellis, Gerard Way,” Jamie smiles.

Gerard holds out a hand and Warren shakes it. “Pleased to meet you,” Warren says. “It’ll be good to see for myself if you’re as big a miscreant as these two say you are.”

Gerard laughs and says, “Same, honestly. Do you really have a top hat made of gold coins?”

“Only for special occasions,” Warren intones. 

Gerard grins. “Too bad this isn’t special.” 

Jamie huffs, but it makes Warren laugh. Kieron slings an arm around Gerard’s shoulders. “Every day is a special occasion with you, Gee.”

“I carry confetti for that purpose,” he replies.

“Awesome,” Jamie says. “You can bring that out later.” Warren laughs, and it’s big and loud and Gerard can’t help grinning. He’s pretty sure they’re going to get along just fine.

Gerard didn’t exactly expect they’d get to talking about the book business immediately, but they do get there eventually, by way of comedy and modern art and electronica and politics.

“I’ve read your some of stuff,” Warren says. “Fucking entertaining shit.” 

“Really?” Gerard says, surprised. “I - thank you.”

“Don’t thank me, everyone knows I’m a crazy old git.” Warren smirks and sips from the glass Kieron hands him. Gerard smiles, he can’t help it. 

“He’s got several other projects he can’t seem to get Hammer to take a risk on,” Kieron says. 

Gerard opens his mouth to object to this line of conversation, but Warren snorts. “That’s because Hammer is an imprint of the corporate publishing monolith. They, like all the majors, are scared of good stories, because they get too powerful, and they can’t control them anymore. These projects - more horror?”

“Not exactly,” Gerard begins. “And much longer than the current novellas.” He shrugs.

“You should talk to Grant. He runs Invisible Publishing, my new home,” Warren says. “I think your work would be right up his alley, if what I’ve already seen is any indication.”

“Invisible Publishing,” Gerard repeats. “I haven’t heard of that press - are they new?”

“Very. Grant is Grant Morrison, and he’s been looking for somewhere to direct his swimming pool full of money.”

“As in… _the_ Grant Morrison?” Gerard asks, even though he already knows the answer. 

“ _The_ Grant Morrison,” Kieron replies. “We invited him today, but he’s up in Scotland for the week.”

“I’d heard that he’d left Penguin,” says Gerard, slowly. “I didn’t realize he’d started his own.”

“I believe Warren has the questionable honor of being his first,” Jamie says with an eyebrow waggle.

Gerard laughs and Warren rolls his eyes. “You should contact him. I’ll put in a good word if you like.” 

“Thanks for the suggestion. I’ll definitely let you know,” Gerard says. Grant Morrison is known as one of the best editors in their weirdo corner of the business. Gerard finds himself wanting to see if he can get noticed _without_ anyone’s help. 

When dinner is ready, they move to the living room. Kieron hands Gerard the promised Shirley Temple with a flourish. “Not gonna tell you how long he looked on the Internet for this recipe,” Jamie whispers. Gerard laughs. 

“Hey!” Kieron exclaims. “It wasn’t ’cause I couldn’t find it. I find mixology fascinating.” 

“Of course, love,” says Warren, patting Kieron’s arm.

“It’s very good,” Gerard assures him. 

“Who cooked?” Warren asks.

“I did,” Jamie says. “Because Kieron is a wanker.” 

“You mean because you lost a bet fair and square,” Kieron shoots back. Jamie flicks Keiron the vee.

“We don’t need to hear about your little bedroom games,” Warren rumbles with a smirk.

“Speak for yourself,” Gerard says. 

Warren laughs. “You and Grant would get along _very_ well.”

“I’m just saying, I need to live vicariously though someone’s sex life,” Gerard sighs.

Kieron pets Gerard’s shoulder. “There, there, Way. Your prince will come along.”

Gerard laughs. “Fuck off. I’m happy to just… be for a while. Just lacking in regular sex.” He changes the subject. “Warren, tell me more about your latest?” 

“Boy?” Warren asks, sounding startled. 

“Book,” Gerard giggles. “Unless you’d rather the other one.”

“Oh,” says Warren, affably. “Well, there’s not much to speak of on the other one, anyway. But the book is going to be horrid.”

“You say that every time,” Jamie says. “You’re always wrong.” 

“And you’re always an infant,” Warren shoots back. 

“That statement seems self-contradictory,” Gerard points out.

“Fuck you,” Jamie retorts. 

Warren throws up his hands. “You see? Infant!” Gerard laughs again. Warren has a twinkle in his eye and is looking at Jamie rather fondly, despite the tone. 

Kieron looks back and forth between them with a little smile, but he just says, “Dinner.”

 _Huh_ , Gerard thinks, but he tucks into his food without complaint. It’s good, not that he was expecting otherwise. The conversation is better. All three of them are ridiculously smart and talented. It seems Kieron is planning on jumping ship to Invisible Press as well. It makes Gerard feel a little itchy. He’s fucking grateful to Hammer for publishing his short stories, but he can’t shake the feeling that Warren is right; they’re _never_ going to take the chance on his… less-marketable ideas. 

He needs to start shopping himself around again. He might as well start with Invisible. Worst that can happen is he gets another no. He’s dealt with no before. He shakes his head to clear it, and focuses back on the conversation at hand. 

Which is…well, it looks a lot like flirting. But cheerful, casual flirting. Interesting. It’s fun, though. None of them make him feel left out of their tight-knit little group. He misses his art-school friends, but it’s nice to have new ones.

He’s surprised when he looks at the clock and sees how late it’s getting. “I should probably head out,” he says. “Since I have to go all the way across the world to East London.”

“Not quite all the way across the world,” Warren laughs.

“Jersey was a little farther,” Gerard agrees. “It was great to meet you, Warren.” 

“And you, Gerard. Think about contacting Grant about your work,” he says and shakes Gerard’s hand. Kieron and Jamie both hug him, and he squeezes extra hard for a moment before heading for the Tube.

He spends the whole ride home leaning against the wall of the train, turning over what he’d heard about Invisible Press in his head. He has nothing to lose, he supposes. And a lot to gain, potentially, if a manuscript is accepted. He’ll look up submission guidelines in the morning. 

*

Two weeks later, he’s clicking “send” on an email to submit the most polished of his pet manuscripts to Invisible Press. He’s using a pseudonym, and he also hasn’t told Kieron or Jamie that he’s trying this; he wants to see what happens, if he can do this alone. 

He goes out for coffee afterwards, nerves too frayed for tea. He’s fingering a cigarette in his pocket, but doesn’t light it - or stop at the cafe on his high street. He gets on the tube instead.

He ends up at Camden Market, wandering the shops and taking pictures with the camera he’s taken to keeping in his bag at all times. This is why he moved to London. By the time a few hours have passed, he feels much, much less nervous. He also has a bag of stuff he’s bought in various shops and stalls he’s passed - a couple t-shirts, a new pair of sunglasses, some stickers, a few used books.

Whatever happens, whatever Invisible Press thinks of his ideas, at least he took a shot, put himself out there. He laughs a little; his mom is going to be fucking proud. He’ll have to call her later. He finds a pub for lunch and goes back home. He checks his email and there’s nothing there. Not that he really _expected_ anything this soon. But he couldn’t help it. 

He spends the rest of the afternoon drawing, because he’s still too worked up to concentrate on writing. He tells himself he’s not going to check his email any more than he normally would, and he mostly succeeds, but only because he gets caught up in the details of what he’s drawing.

It takes another two weeks before he gets a reply. Just seeing the email in his inbox makes his palms sweat and his heart beat faster. He has to call Mikey to psych himself up to open it. Luckily, Mikey only grumbles a little bit about being woken up at four am. 

“Open it so I can go back to bed.”

Gerard takes a deep breath. He stares at the email a little longer. Then, quickly, he clicks on it. He has to read it three times before it even makes any sense. “I… they like the manuscript and want to meet with me.” 

“Course they do,” Mikey says. “Congrats, Gee. Email them back.” 

“Yeah. Thanks, Mikey. Love you.” 

“Love you too,” Mikey replies and hangs up. Gerard swallows and stares at the email some more. He has to call his mom. Fuck, he has to call Jamie and Kieron. They, at least, will be awake. For starters, though, he pushes “reply.”

He sends a quick message in reply and then goes outside for a cigarette. He meets Nick coming up from the cafe. “Oh, you’re out in daylight,” he teases.

“I do sometimes manage it,” Nick returns. “You look positively chipper today, Gee Way.” 

Gerard can’t help bouncing up and down a little. “Had an email with some good news.”

“Spill.” Nick takes a sip from the paper cup in his hand. 

“One of my actual full-length novels got accepted by a publisher. Just got the email,” Gerard says, beaming. 

Nick grins back at him. “That’s brilliant, mate!”

“I’m so thrilled. It’s just a small press, but it’s the first time I’ve even gotten a shot.” 

“When you’re famous, promise you’ll come on my TV programme,” Nick replies.

“Of course I will. But. You don’t have a TV programme,” Gerard replies.

“I will,” Nick says confidently. 

Gerard grins at him. “Well then, alright. I promise.”

“And hey, this calls for you to actually come out for drinks next time I ask you, so I can buy you one. The best diet coke in East London,” Nick promises.

“Fine, fine,” Gerard says. “But I’m not staying out as long as you do. I can’t sleep in like you.”

“The trials of the old and infirm,” Nick agrees, accusingly.

“Infant,” Gerard shoots back, feeling curiously like Warren. Shit, he’d love to thank Warren for the encouragement, but that will blow his cover.

Nick just laughs. “I am not _that_ much younger than you.” 

“You’re younger than my little brother, and therefore you are an infant.”

“Whatever you say, old man,” Nick replies. “You’re beaming,” he adds, shaking his head and smiling. “It’s nice to see. Hope your luck rubs off on me.” He waggles his eyebrows.

Gerard laughs. “You’ve promised me a spot on your TV show, it’s got to.”

Nick says goodbye and heads inside. Gerard lights his cigarette and takes a deep drag. He’s thinking about Warren again, and about Grant Morrison, and how he’ll have to fess up to using a pen name and wondering if it’s going to be a problem. He doesn’t _think_ it will, but he’s always nervous meeting new people, learning them. He takes another drag. It’ll be fine, he tells himself. 

He stares out up at the London sky. “Okay,” he murmurs. It’s become his talisman. “Okay.”

*

Invisible Press has a London office, although Gerard would travel to Scotland if he had to, for this chance. The week since he got the email has been a roller coaster of elation and nerves, but now he’s on his way across town to meet with Grant Morrison and his business partner, Kristan Anderson. 

He takes the tube towards central London, occasionally reaching into his bag and touching his copy of the manuscript, just to reassure himself. They like it. He’ll make sure they like him. It will all be okay.

Their office is in a charming old building. Which isn’t particularly surprising since it seems like _most_ buildings in London are charming and old. At least by Gerard’s standards. He touches his manuscript one more time, double checks the office number, and heads for the stairs.

The office door is open and he can hear someone cursing inside. It’s a scruffily bearded young man about Gerard’s age, sitting behind a desk in the reception area. “Hi?” Gerard ventures. 

“Sorry,” the guy answers in a not-British accent, “I kicked the computer plug out of the wall. Pardon the cursing. You must be -” 

“I have a two o’clock,” Gerard replies.

“Right. I’ll let the bosses know you’re here. If you need anything, tea and coffee are just there,” he points to a small table with a kettle and coffee maker in it. “I’m Cameron, by the way.” 

“Gerard Way.” Cameron smiles at him and heads back into the interior of the office. Gerard doesn’t think that tea is a good idea right now—he’s already so jittery he might make a hole in the floor—but he really wants something to do with his hands.

“I don’t remember making an appointment with a Gerard Way,” a pretty blond woman says when Cameron ushers him into the back office. She’s smiling, though. Gerard flicks his eyes to the man on her right.

“Sorry, I sent the manuscript using my pen name. Gerard Way is my real name,” he says. 

“Well, Gerard Way, it’s good to meet you. I’m Kristan Anderson.” 

“And Grant Morrison, of course,” Gerard says, offering a hand to them both. He’s not sure why Grant is staring the way he is.

“Hello. You look like someone–or something–I’d meet in a haunted house,” Grant tells him. 

Gerard beams. “That was the point! Everyone else just calls me an old man.”

Grant laughs, and waves at Gerard to take a seat across from him and Kristan. “Trust me, you’re not the old man in the room,” Grant tells him. “But I know your name, perhaps?”

“I’ve published short stories with Hammer. I have tried more than one novel with them and have been rejected each time. To be honest, I submitted first with a pen name because I wanted to see if my work stood on its own,” Gerard admits. 

“It certainly does,” Kristan says, smoothly. “Grant barged into my office last week and all but demanded that I read your submission.”

Grant spins around to face the shelves behind him, suddenly enough that Gerard stares, but he just grabs a few volumes off a shelf and tosses them lightly on the table. “A-ha.”

Gerard knows those books well. He’s got several copies of each at home. “You’ve read my other work?” 

“I realize, now, that I have. In fact, I enjoyed it very much. But I certainly didn’t realize when I was reading your manuscript—and the realization doesn’t change the fact that we think you’re exactly the sort of talent we want here.”

Kristan nods her agreement, and Gerard smiles at them both. “Well, I supposed I’d have to confess sooner or later. It was just…a matter of principle.”

Grant smiles. “I understand the impulse to prove something, if only to yourself.”

Gerard had done his homework on Invisible Press before submitting his manuscript. Grant had left a lucrative contract at Penguin to found Invisible with Kristan, who was herself a well-established small press editor, and he’d made no bones about the fact that his decision to leave had been based on the major publishing houses’s attitudes towards the stories they sold.

Having Warren come on board immediately had been a big boost for two people who were already well-known names. On a personal level, he’d been interested to find out that Grant and Kristan had been an item at one time. Gerard might be letting that knowledge color his opinion of their interactions, but whatever happened there, they clearly are completely comfortable together.

“We have our standard contract drawn up for you, but are open to negotiation on all points,” Kristan says. 

Gerard takes a deep breath. “Not to look a gift horse in the mouth or anything, but… It’s that easy?”

“I said open to negotiation,  not open to highway robbery,” she grins. “But you may certainly take that paperwork to review and one of us will schedule a follow-up at your convenience. In the meantime, perhaps you’d like to know more about Invisible’s plans for expansion?” 

“I’d love to,” Gerard replies. “I know Kieron Gillen is thinking of moving to you guys.” 

“I didn’t realize that was public knowledge,” Grant says. 

Gerard grins. “Well, he told me, so I don’t suppose it is.”

Once again, Grant stares at him a little too intently, and then his face clears. “Ah. You’re the friend of Kieron and Jamie’s that Warren was telling me about, aren’t you?”

“I suppose I might be. Depends if he was telling you good things,” Gerard laughs.

“He was, in fact,” Grant replies. “He said he thought we’d get along well, actually.”

“He, uh. He actually said the same thing to me,” Gerard says. 

“Is this another reason why you chose to submit your draft with a pseudonym?” Kristan asks. She’s smiling at him, and it’s a bit scary how a woman he’s never met before today can look like she already knows every thought in his head. “It’s not everyday someone doesn’t jump all over an endorsement from -” she cuts herself off. “Oh lord, I can’t even say it with a straight face. Not about Warren. He’s a real mate, though, and I have every confidence he knows exactly what Grant is looking for.” 

“What Invisible Press is looking for,” Grant tacks on. 

She rolls her eyes as smiles. “Yes, yes.” Gerard likes them, he decides. A lot. 

“That was also a reason,” he admits. “I mean, I’d totally take a cover blurb from him when the time comes, but like I said, I wanted to see if I could do without for the first part.”

“Very understandable. Admirable, too. Gerard, your manuscript is… Well. Hammer would never take a chance on it, because they have a damnable lack of vision. And it’s certainly rough, but it’s really fucking good.”

“Rough drafts are called that for a reason,” Grant says easily. “Fortunately I know an editor who is dying to get his hands on it.”

Gerard groans. “The simultaneously best and worst part. Can we fast forward to the part where it’s done?”

“Where would the fun in that be?” Grant asks.

Gerard cocks his head to the side. “I suppose I should have expected that answer.” He looks at Kristan. “I’m sorry, we’ve gotten totally off track.”

She smiles. “Not a problem. We like getting to know people.” 

Grant grins broadly. “You see, Gerard, Invisible Press is like a family-” he begins, but Kristan cuts him off with a punch to his arm, and he laughs. 

“You’re only supporting my point, love,” he tells her.

She rolls her eyes. “It is true. Or we hope it will be true. It helps to bring in people who know and respect each other already and expand for there.” 

“I really like what I’ve heard about this place,” Gerard tells them. “In this interview, and from the other people I’ve talked to about you. I think I’m ready to take a look at those contracts, now.”

Grant gestures at the folder on the table. Gerard is caught for a moment by the grace of the gesture, then reaches out to pull it closer. He reads it closely. It’s a standard contract, bordering on _really good_ in some areas. There are no unpleasant surprises.

He looks up, catching Kristan watching him read. “Acceptable, Gerard?” He nods, a grin spreading over his face. “Then start signing everywhere there’s a tab,” Kristan says with an answering smile.  

He looks over at Grant, who gives him a sweet smile, then back down at the papers. There are a lot of tabs. Kristan hands him a pen. He starts signing his name as Grant asks him about what he does, what his other projects are. 

“I do graphic design at Borough-Peters-Rich. That’s how I met Jamie. As for other projects, what don’t I have? I’m glad I’m done submitting to Hammer, though.” He grins.

After he’s finally hunted down the very last tab, and signed his name with a flourish, the discussion turns towards his manuscript itself, and Gerard has to fight down his nerves. They’ve already told him that they like it. He’s signed the contracts. Everything is going to be okay.

“I love the story, the concepts, the ideas you explore,” Grant says. “There are a few sections I’ve already marked that may need tightening up, but I’m going to give it a couple more passes first. However, I think you have to try not to be afraid to let the themes guide you, rather than the other way around. We’ll talk more, I’m sure.” 

“I look forward to it,” Gerard says.

Kristan says, “I’m looking forward to seeing what you create with us, Mr. Way.” She rises to her feet, and Grant and Gerard follow suit.

He reaches out to shake both their hands. “Thank you both so much.” 

“I’m sure you’re absolutely welcome,” Grant replies. He holds onto Gerard’s hand for a moment longer, then steps back. Gerard takes a deep breath, trying to fight down the giant grin on his face. 

“By the way, there’s going to be a little thing for all our authors, at least the ones on the country, in a few weeks,” Kristan says.  

“That sounds nice,” Gerard replies. “Are there - how many -”

“We’re not a large press, yet, but it should at least be a good party,” Grant tells him.

“I’ll send you the details,” Kristan says. 

“Sounds like fun,” he says with a grin and looks at Grant. “If nothing else, it’ll be interesting to see you and Warren in the same room.”

“It always is,” Grant answers with a mischievous smile. “Welcome to the Invisible Press family, Gerard.”

* * *

Grant endures Kristan’s raised eyebrow, as the office door closes on Gerard Way, with a put-upon sigh. “Yes, love?”

“I know that look on your face,” she says with a smug little smile. “You fancy him.” 

“I’ve only just met him,” Grant points out. 

“How long did you take to decide you fancied me?” she asks. 

“Oi, dredging up the past,” Grant protests.

“Should have thought of that before you asked me to help you run away and start a press,” she tells him. 

“Touché,” Grant replies. “He _is_ rather lovely, I will admit. More, I suppose time will tell.”

“You suppose?” Kristan’s lips twitch. She knows him entirely too well.

“Darling, I am a professional,” Grant insists. “For the moment, my dearest wish is see what he makes of the rest of that manuscript.”

She rolls her eyes at him. “I’m sure he’ll make it into something truly special. And at the party, all of us will be witness to your flirting.”

Grant stares at her, suddenly concerned. “I can’t flirt with an author.”

Kristan finally seems to take some pity on him. “I know, love. You _are_ a professional.”

“We’ve done well,” Grant says after a beat. “If we can get Kelly Sue with us as well, it’ll be completely brilliant.”

“Why don’t you give Warren a call?” 

“What, now?” he asks when she just stares expectantly. He huffs out a sigh and heads towards the doorway and his own office. “Only because it will be good to speak to him, you understand.” 

“Of course,” Kristan says, and her laughter follows him out of the room.

Warren picks up after the third ring. “Moz, what can I do to convince you to use your email address?” Warren asks. 

“Nothing,” Grant says merrily. “I enjoy your dulcet tones.”

“I hate yours,” Warren says. 

“Sweet as always. Warren, I’m calling to nag you. First, have you talked to Kelly Sue? Insider info would be appreciated.”

He can feel Warren’s disapproval radiating down the phone line. “I think I might be insulted by your opinion of my character, you know.” Grant just laughs and Warren sighs. “Yes, I’ve spoken with Kelly. She’s interested. Have a little patience.”

“You’re a mate,” Grant smiles. 

“Hate,” Warren repeats. “Was that all? I have an important bottle of whiskey to get back to.”

“I’ve just had a meeting with a very promising young author; that manuscript I was telling you about.”

“And?” Warren asks. He sounds surly, but Grant knows he’s interested. 

“It turns out, the author is someone you know.”

“I know lots of people.” 

“People who also know your Kieron and Jamie?”

“They’re not _my_ Kieron and Jamie,” Warren corrects, absently. Then he says, “Wait. This promising young author… hair like something out of a horror film?”

Grant laughs. “Yes. He snuck in a manuscript under a pen name because, apparently, he had something to prove to himself.” 

“Didn’t we all,” Warren sighs. “Well, what did you make of young Gerard?”

“I signed him,” Grant says. 

Warren rumbles a laugh. “I figured you might, given the chance. But that doesn’t answer my question, Moz.”

“He’s… inspired. His head is full of ideas just waiting to be let out,” Grant says. “I want to be there to see them.”

“That’s better, Moz. But you’re holding back,” Warren needles. 

“That is my considered professional opinion,” Grant replies.

Warren gives up with a snort. “I knew the two of you would get along, you know.”

“Yes, yes,” Grant says. “And you were right. I’m very much looking forward to working with him more.” Warren’s sigh is loud enough to hear even on the phone. Grant knows what he’s hinting at. What he’s been hinting at periodically ever since Grant and Kristan broke up. He just doesn’t know what to do about the situation, so he changes the subject. “And your boys, Warren?”

“Not mine,” Warren reminds him. “It was good to see them last time I was in London, though.”

“Be at the party and see them again,” Grant says. “Also me and Gerard and Kristan and a few others.”

“I hate the city.” 

“You hate everything. You like me. Say yes.” 

“I hate you,” Warren replies, but Grant knows it’s a yes.

* * *

Over the next few weeks, Gerard throws himself into working on his manuscript, trying to flesh it out and, as Grant had advised, trust the themes of the story. At times, it’s fucking frustrating, but it’s also really rewarding. He spends some time talking things through on the phone with Grant. He always comes out of their conversations both reassured and energized. Grant’s aversion to email is a little strange at first, but Gerard finds that he actually really enjoys talking to Grant.

At work, Jamie gives him shit for hearing about Gerard being signed to Invisible through the grapevine. It mostly makes Gerard laugh. And wonder what Grant said to Warren. “Seriously, congrats, mate,” Jamie says and claps him on the shoulder. “Will you leave me here by myself one of these days, then, Gee?”

Gerard doesn’t _say_ yes, but then, he doesn’t have to. Jamie knows.

“We’ll have a massive leaving ’do when you go. And you’ll be the only one not hung over the next day,” Jamie says. 

“Promise Kieron will DJ,” Gerard grins.

Jamie shoves his shoulder. “Philistine.”

“Kieron shares your taste _and_ knows how to take the stick out of his ass and just have fun,” Gerard says with a wave of his hand and dodges Jamie’s hands. “Ow. Stop hitting.” Gerard pouts. 

“Infant,” Jamie teases.

“That’s you, pretty sure. Isn’t that Warren’s pet name for you?” Gerard teases back. 

“One of them,” Jamie sighs.

“He seems like a good guy,” Gerard says. He’s totally fishing, because he’s more than a little curious about Jamie and Kieron and Warren and if there’s anything going on there.

“He’s the best,” Jamie says. “Under all his gruffness and misanthropy, he’s really very sweet. Don’t ever tell him I said so.”

“Doesn’t he know you think so?” Jamie rolls his eyes, which is really all the answer that Gerard needs.

*

The phone rings just as Gerard is about to click away from his word processor in frustration. This scene has been fighting him for two days, and he’s ready to just say “fuck it” and write it off, but he can’t shake the feeling that if he can just find the _right_ words, the whole act would fall into place. He grabs his phone and looks at the display, not surprised when he sees Grant’s name.

He takes a deep breath. Or, he could schedule a meeting with his editor and see if they can hash it out together. “Hey, Grant,” he says when he answers the phone. 

“Gerard, hello. Thought I’d check in, as it’s been a bit.” Gerard can hear traffic in the background and shivers automatically. He’s been holed up in his flat eating leftover takeaways because it’s too dire outside to go out. That might actually be part of the problem, now that he thinks about it.

“You must have some sort of weird editorial sixth sense,” Gerard jokes.

Grant laughs. “Then how can I be of assistance?”

“I’ve been fighting with a scene for a million years and it’d be good to meet and talk though it,” Gerard says. 

“'Course. I’m close by your flat, that’s why I was calling,” Grant says cheerfully. “Tell me where you like to get a coffee and I’ll meet you there.”

“That would be great,” Gerard tells him, though he has a moment of panic about the fact that he hasn’t been out of his pajamas all weekend.

“Actually…meet you at the tube stop closest to yours in fifteen or so?” Grant suggests. “We can get some lunch and discuss your problem scene.” 

Fifteen is…not long. Gerard glances in the mirror. “Twenty?” he suggests.

Grant laughs. “Twenty, then.” They say their goodbyes, and Gerard drops his phone and races for the shower.

He takes the fastest shower ever and is out the door with only a few seconds to spare. At least he remembers his tablet and his moleskine. It’s a close call. He didn’t remember a scarf, so he’s bright read by the time he reaches the tube stop.

Grant is already waiting, and he smiles when he sees Gerard. Them he gets a closer look, and the smile becomes an outright grin.

“What? Do I have toothpaste on my face? Or something in my hair?” His hands go straight to his face and up to smooth his hair. 

“Your shirt is inside out, and the less said about your hair the better,” Grant tells him, elaborately severe. Then he winks. “Could be jealousy on my part. You’re perfect. Let’s go.”

Gerard wants to protest, because of the two of them, Grant is the one who looks perfect, in his fine wool overcoat and designer suit. He swallows it down, though. “So, where are we going for lunch?” 

“I’ve just remembered there’s a little cafe just down the road that does spectacular seitan,” Grant says. “Among other things.”

“Sold,” Gerard says. “What are you up to over here, anyway? Not that I mind.”

“Just running some errands that I’ve been putting off,” Grant shrugs. “There’s a lot of work to do yet to get ready for the party in a few weeks.”

“I’m really looking forward to it, by the way,” Gerard says. 

“Likewise.” Grant ushers him into the cafe with a hand at his waist. “So,” Grant says, once they’re seated and the waiter has taken their orders. “This scene that’s been giving you trouble.”

Gerard moans and describes the scene and what he’s trying to do with it and then passes over his tablet, open to the scene, and then his moleskine. “This is a different way I tried to write it while on the tube last week, but I don’t know. Neither is what I want.” 

Grant sips his tea and reads both versions carefully. “What is most important to you about the scene?” he asks.

Gerard opens his mouth to reply, but stops and makes himself consider the question carefully. “Probably… probably the conversation between the sisters?”

“Focus on that, then,” Grant says. “Write out that conversation exactly how you want it and then build the section around it.”

“It’s not-” 

“Elaborate enough? Artistic enough? Doesn’t matter. Or- if that doesn’t work for you, make it matter.”

Gerard is quiet for a second, thinking it over. “Maybe… huh.” Grant laughs and pushes the moleskin back across the table.

“Feel free to keep sending me things as you work and I can give you feedback. I like both of these scenes, but I can see why you’re unhappy with them. I think shifting focus will help you,” Grant says. 

“Probably,” Gerard allows. “Do you- can I show you something else?”

“Absolutely,” Grant agrees, and Gerard takes a deep breath and flips the moleskin forward a few pages. It’s a new thing he hasn’t been able to get out of his head. Gerard isn’t even sure where it’s going. 

“More tube writing,” he explains. “It’s…just a thing. Another thing.” He’s not entirely sure why he’s even showing the pages to Grant, except that Grant’s a fucking _good_ editor. Gerard kind of wants to see what he makes of it, if the idea makes sense to somebody else.

“I fucking love this,” Grant says. “It’s fucking mental and brilliant.”

Gerard bites back a goofy smile. “Maybe. I don’t know where it’s going.”

“Often, those are the best kind of ideas.” Their food arrives then, and Gerard tucks away his tablet and his notebook. They spend the rest of the meal talking about his manuscript, working through some of the other roadblocks Gerard has been dealing with.

It’s one of the best business-type lunches he’s ever had. Grant is ridiculously easy to talk to. 

Gerard is already feeling more energized. It’s a shame he has to go back to work, but he’ll make it all happen anyway.

“Thank you,” he says sincerely, sticking out his hand once they’re back on the sidewalk. “I am— fuck, I’m so fucking glad I get the chance to work with you.”

“It is sincerely my pleasure, Gerard,” Grant says. 

“I think you mean that,” Gerard teases with a grin. Grant’s hand is warm. He lets go a little reluctantly.

“I do,” Grant agrees easily. He checks his watch and looks a little regretful when he says, “I’m afraid I have to head back towards the office. But do call me to let me know how that scene shakes out, alright?”

“I will,” Gerard promises. “Thanks again, Grant.” Grant fakes tipping a hat at him and they head in opposite directions. 

It starts raining again before Gerard gets back to his flat, but he’s still smiling.

*

The night of the author party, Gerard ends up donning a waistcoat and tie. He looks like a consumptive Victorian lord. It’s awesome. He spends a little too long on his clothes, so he hurries through the rest. He likes his eyeliner too much to leave it out.

He knows he gets more than a few appreciative stares while he waits for the tube. 

When he arrives at the correct street in Camden, Gerard looks around with interest. He knows the area around Camden Market well enough, but this is several streets away. There’s a definite hodgepodge of demographics that Gerard finds interesting. The press booked a private dining room at a restaurant for this dinner, and Gerard is impressed they could get one because the rest of the place is jam-packed.

“Gerard!” Kristan exclaims, as he walks in the door. “So glad you could make it, love.”

He grins. “Glad to be here.” She kisses his cheek and Gerard is shuffled toward a small group of people he doesn’t recognize. He puts on a winning smile, glancing between the two men and the woman curiously.

“That hair,” says the woman, grinning at him. “You must be Grant’s new thing.”

Gerard doesn’t know how to respond. “No hazing, Eileen,” Kristan says, stepping in to rescue him. 

“I may be the newest but I’m sure I’m not the most interesting,” Gerard says lightly, trying to ease the moment.

The woman, Eileen, laughs. “Spoil our fun, Kristan.” 

“Warren will be here soon. You can haze him all you like,” Kristan says with a smile. Eileen shudders and the man standing beside her laughs. 

“Hey now,” says Kieron, walking up to them. 

Gerard grins. “Hey, Kieron.” 

“Are we playing D&D again this week?” Kieron asks. 

“Think I would miss the chance to eat Jamie’s Ritter Sport and watch his sad faces?” Gerard replies, and a deep laugh rings out behind him. Warren is here, trailing Kieron, though Jamie is not in evidence.

“He’ll be here later,” Kieron says, when he sees Gerard looking. He gets into a discussion with Kieron and Warren about day-job horror stories and nearly jumps when a hand squeezes his shoulder. 

“I have hopes not to be one of the scary ones,” a warm Scottish voice says in his ear, fingers brushing over his hair for a moment as the owner of the hand draws it back. He doesn’t know why it is - Grant certainly didn’t try it - but Gerard feels it to his toes. 

“Grant!” Gerard turns around, grinning. Grant is once again dressed to the nines; a crisp suit and a bold tie.

Grant smiles. “Hello, Gerard. So glad you came.”

“Why wouldn’t I? I’m a stranger in a strange land, after all.”

“Strange is right,” Warren laughs; Gerard is weirdly flattered.

“We cultivate the strange, appreciate the weird, and catch our breath over the -” Grant seems to realize his conversation is spiraling in an uncontrollable direction and smiles instead. “You have no drink, Gerard.”

“I, ah. Don’t. Drink, that is. I’d take a Diet Coke or a Shirley Temple, though,” Gerard says. He hasn’t felt this awkward about his sobriety in a while. Maybe because Grant has a bit of a reputation. 

“I hear our lovely bartender makes quite an excellent Shirley Temple,” Grant replies easily. He steps over to the bar and leans in to talk to the bartender before Gerard can stir himself.

When Grant comes back, he hands Gerard his drink with a smile. “Tell me to fuck off if I’m being overly nosy, but is there a particular reason why you don’t drink? I only ask because I didn’t touch the stuff until I turned thirty.”

“I had a problem a little while back. It’s just better if I don’t mix me and alcohol.” Gerard’s not ashamed to talk about it. Now. Grant nods his acceptance, and he doesn’t ask anything else about it. Instead, he points out the various people around the room. They’re all names Gerard is at least vaguely familiar with. He thinks maybe that would be intimidating, but he already met Grant and Warren.

Grant leads him around for a little while, making introductions. Then the host comes and whispers in Kristan’s ear and people start to filter into seats at the tables. He half expects Grant and Kristan to be seated at the head of the table, but Grant ends up sitting directly across from Gerard. 

Jamie is on one side and a woman named Meredith on the other. Gerard introduces himself to Meredith and they chat a bit, but he mostly can’t take his eyes off Grant. This could get inconvenient. 

He addresses himself rather exclusively to Jamie after a while, just to keep from staring. The trouble is, Warren is sitting directly across from Jamie, and the two of them keep throwing good-natured insults back and forth, and drawing both Gerard and Grant into the fray. It’s _fun_ and if exchanging amused looks with Grant gives Gerard an excuse to look, well. He’s okay with that, really. 

He repents a bit after the main course, and turns to talk more with Meredith over salad, getting an introduction to her wife on her other side. The table is fucking _bursting_ with talent, and Gerard feels so stupidly glad to be sitting here. He’s kind of _astonished_ to be sitting here, really. It’s strange and wonderful to be counted in their number. 

There’s a small break in the dinner service to clear the tables before coffee and dessert. Gerard finds Grant next to him again. “You were right,” Gerard tells him, looking around the room, at the easy way people are talking and laughing together. It’s nothing like any event he’d ever gone to for Hammer and Random House, or for the design agency. Grant looks at him, curiously, and Gerard smiles. “Your press. It is like a family.”

Grant smiles back. “We try. It helps that we started with people we already knew and loved and moved out from there.”

Gerard notices Kristan watching them talk. He sort of wants to ask Grant about Kristan—he knows they were an item at one point. But he also knows that Kristan, and her incredible savvy for the publishing business, are a big reason that Invisible was able to get off the ground, long after she and Grant had ended things. Gerard has never in his life managed such an amicable breakup. He doesn’t even know how that works. Fortunately the part of him that remembers this isn’t actually a family steers him away from too-personal questions. He finds himself tugging a strand of hair.

“You’ve re-dyed it,” Grant observes. 

He nodded. “Special occasion.” 

“I like the eyeliner,” Grant says. “Adds a touch more drama to your look.” 

Gerard laughs. “Go big or go home, I always say.”

“A younger me might have said the same thing when first faced with a razor,” Grant replies.

Gerard can’t help his laugh, and Grant joins him. He has a nice laugh, Gerard thinks. He’s heard it a few times over the past few weeks, during their phone conversations about the manuscript, but it’s even better to be able to see the way the laughter changes Grant’s face. He looks so _happy_. Content and comfortable in a way that seems to expand out and affect everyone around him. 

That’s what Gerard had been missing in his life. It’s just one more reason why he’s really fucking glad he decided to go with his gut and submit his work to Invisible Press. 

Even Warren seems pretty happy right now. Though, Gerard suspects that is due in large part to Jamie and Kieron’s presence. Gerard watches Kieron hand Warren a fresh glass of whiskey. Warren says something Gerard can’t hear, but he can see Jamie smirk.

“Thick as thieves, those three,” Grant murmurs. 

Gerard smiles. “Yeah. I’m betting Warren doesn’t smile nearly as much when they aren’t around.”

“You would be correct,” Grant replies.

Here, too, Gerard stops himself from asking a more personal question. He doesn’t _think_ Kieron and Jamie and Warren are fucking, but. Well. If they are, he’ll probably find out sooner or later. 

“It’s good to see,” Grant adds. “They keep things from getting to him overmuch.”

“Warren Ellis, sensitive?” Gerard says lightly. 

“Don’t tell him I’ve blown his cover,” Grant grins. 

“Mum’s the word.” Gerard smiles. “I’ve never been very good at even attempting to hide being sensitive as fuck.”

Grant eyes him a little more thoroughly than necessary, then says, “People tell _me_ that I’m a bit of a dandy.”

“You?” Gerard asks, sweeping his eyes over Grant’s tailored suit, his colorful tie, his shoes that probably cost more than Gerard pays in rent for a month. Grant laughs and asks, “What’s something about you that _isn’t_ obvious, then?”

“I made the best Peter Pan Belleville Junior High had ever seen,” Gerard teases. The look on Grant’s face, like he’s considering that mental image carefully, is gratifying. “How about you? Anything not common knowledge you wanna tell me?” Gerard asks. 

“Many things,” Grant says immediately, but he stops after that.

Kristan waves to get the room’s attention, and everyone sits down again while the waiters bring around coffee. Gerard makes a small blissful noise, and Kieron, sitting to his left this time, laughs. Gerard flips him off with a grin. “I’ve given up all my other vices. Coffee and smoking are all I have.”

“All?” Grant murmurs. He’s on Gerard’s other side this time, and Gerard gets the impression he didn’t really intend to interrupt.

Gerard really, _really_ doesn’t intend to reply, “Well, not _all,_ ” but he does it anyway. 

Grant’s answering chuckle is deep and… fucking sexy. “Good to hear.”

Gerard takes a large bite of his pudding so he won’t reply again. Jesus. He needs to get a little bit of his composure back.

“Astonishing,” he hears Kieron mutters under his breath. 

“The pudding? I’m still trying to get used to it.” Gerard smiles crookedly.

“Yes, the pudding is what I was referring to,” Kieron says dryly.

Gerard takes a sip of coffee and ignores him. He catches Warren smirking at him from across the table. “Are you staying in town tonight?” Gerard asks Warren innocently.

Warren just raises an eyebrow, but Gerard’s pretty sure he’s not imagining the blush on Kieron’s cheeks. Gerard grins and takes another bite of his pudding. He really likes these people. 

He’d imagined he’d leave after dinner, when the drinking started, but he feels -well. Content. Jamie is pressing another Shirley Temple into Gerard’s hand, and it’s easy to let himself get drawn into conversations. Grant is never far. To be fair, it’s not a huge room, but Gerard likes his presence. 

When he finally wanders outside for a smoke, Kristan is the one he bumps into. “Hello, Gerard. Enjoying yourself?”

“It’s been really great, Kristan,” Gerard says happily. “Thanks for organizing it. So many awesome people in that room.”

“Agreed,” she says with a smile. “We hope to make it a periodic event.”

“I like that idea,” Gerard tells her. 

“Good. It’s good you and Grant are getting on so well,” she says. 

“He’s been everything I could possibly hope for in an editor,” Gerard says earnestly.

Kristan smiles at him. “I know he thinks very highly of you, Gerard.”

Gerard can’t help but beam. “I’m so glad Warren suggested you guys. I should go back in and thank him.”

“Let me come with you, I can’t miss that,” Kristan laughed.

They head inside, but Warren isn’t immediately in evidence. For that matter, neither are Kieron and Jamie. Gerard laughs out loud. 

“Shall we bring you in on the little bet some of us have going?” she asks. 

“Tell me more,” Gerard says, sipping his drink.

Kristan smiles at him over the top of her glass. “Kieron and Jamie are very… fond of Warren, and Warren, though he’d never admit it to you, is quite fond of them in return.”

“What are we betting and what are the terms?” Gerard asks. 

“Date when one of them admits they’re all fucking,” Kristan says. “Buy-in is twenty quid.” 

“And if Warren finds out and murders us all?” he asks after rummaging in his pocket for money. 

“Nonsense. Half the pot is set aside for a very, very nice bottle of whiskey,” Kristan admits merrily. 

“Wise,” Gerard says, grinning at her as he forks over crumpled pound notes. 

“We’ve known Warren a very long time. He will forgive _much_ for a good bottle of whiskey,” Kristan says. 

Gerard makes a show of consulting his phone’s calendar. He notes the date of the next bank holiday and picks the Friday before. “Is that one taken?” 

“Grant picked the next day,” Kristan says after thinking a moment.

“I’ll take it, then,” Gerard tells her.

“Noted,” Kristan says and puts Gerard’s money in an envelope in her purse. 

“Are the two of you conspiring against me?” Grant asks as he comes toward them. 

“Of course,” Kristan says easily.

“Incorrigible,” Grant sighs. “I knew I should find more trustworthy business partners.”

“You made your choice knowing full well what you would get,” Kristan says. “I have no sympathy for you.”

“You ought to,” Grant says. 

“Not a chance, love,” Kristan replies, kissing him on the cheek. 

“Must be nice to work with someone you’re really good friends with,” Gerard says. 

“What does that make me?” Jamie asks, and Gerard jumps, then hooks an arm around his waist to keep him in their circle. 

“A horrid influence on young Gerard here, I’m sure,” Grant tells Jamie, pretending to be stern.

“Me!” Jamie squawks. “More like you. I am an innocent flower.” 

“Really?” Gerard asks. “Where’d you disappear to, then?”

“Stretching my legs,” Jamie replies. “Dinner was long.”

“Seen Warren around anywhere?” Kristan asks, innocently. 

“Oh, he’s around somewhere.” Jamie’s voice is totally normal. The slight reddening of his cheeks gives him away. None of them comment on that, though. “You’re sticking close to Grant and Kristan,” Jamie replies, because clearly he feels like throwing Gerard under the bus.

“Because we are excellent company,” Grant says, loftily. 

“You are,” Gerard confirms. “And those guys disappeared, so…”

“I can take you around if there’s anyone you haven’t been introduced to yet,” Kristan says with an evil sparkle in her eye. “I’d hate for you to have such limited options.” 

Gerard pointedly ignores the part of himself that would rather just stay right here—he’s aware that his own motives are suspect, at this point—and says, “Actually, that would be great.”

“Why don’t I come with you?” Grant asks. “Make sure I’ve talked to everyone like a proper host.”

“Thank you, darling,” Kristan says and excuses herself. Jamie follows her. Gerard thinks he can hear him laughing.

“Shall we?” asks Grant, offering Gerard his arm.

If people weren’t talking before, they would be now. Gerard smiles and puts his hand in the crook of Grant’s arm. “Lead the way.”

* * *

Grant watches the last of his guests disappear down the street or into waiting cabs and then turns to Kristan. “Share a cab?”

Kristan sighs and leans against him. “Let’s, yeah.”

“I think that was a success,” Grant murmurs as they wait.  

“It was a lovely time,” Kristan replies. “Fuck, my feet hurt.” 

“Foot rub?” Grant offers, and she smacks his shoulder. “Be serious, darling.”

“I am always serious,” he informs her, affecting a grave tone. She’s known him too long to take him seriously.

“Now, if I were Gerard. That’d be a serious offer,” she says with a smirk. 

“Must you, Kris?” he sighs. 

“Sorry, love, I can’t help but tease.” A cab pulls up, and they get in; Grant gives the driver Kristan’s address. As they pull away from the curb, Kristan says, “It’s not _just_ because he’s one of our writers, is it? Because Grant… you know I trust you to keep things professional.”

“And I thank you for that trust. He is bright and beautiful and talented in all the ways I find appealing. The only reason… I feel like he could be a truly remarkable friend. I don’t want to risk that potential, nor do I want I risk our professional relationship at this point merely because I fancy him,” Grant tries to explain. 

“I don’t think he’ll run screaming back to America if you ask him to dinner,” Kristan says mildly.

Grant hums. “The trouble is, I want to do a lot more to him than just ask him to dinner.” A _lot_ more. He think about the noises Gerard had made over the coffee, about Gerard admitting that cigarettes and caffeine weren’t his _only_ vices. The memory curls low and warm in his belly. 

She laughs at him. “I know you have more self-control than that. Invite him to lunch if it makes you feel better. Friends do that. And don’t invite me or anyone else along. I know you have the best of intentions, but a bit of a mixed message will likely aid your cause this time. Get him thinking.” 

“Matchmaker,” Grant accuses, but there’s no heat in it. He grabs her hand and squeezes to tell her he’s thankful to have her. 

“Just want you to be happy, love,” Kristan murmured. 

“You too, for the record,” Grant tells her as they pull up in front of her flat. 

“I know,” Kristan tells him, leaning up to hand the cabbie her portion of their fare. She kisses Grant on the cheek, gets out of the cab, and heads for her front door. Grant rides the rest of the way back to his London flat in silence. So many times he’s thought his life would have been easier if he’d stayed with Kristan. 

*

The next day, well into the afternoon, it’s Warren who calls _him_ , which is such a surprise that Grant nearly forgets to take the piss. Nearly. “You’re awake already?” Grant asks him, feigning shock. 

“No, this is an astral projection speaking,” Warren replies.

“I wouldn’t be at all surprised if you’d managed it,” Grant says. “If anyone could… it’d be you. Especially after a night of drinking whiskey on my tab.”

“I am much too old to be swayed by flattery, Moz,” Warren tells him sternly. 

“That was flattery?” Grant replies. “What can I do for you, Mr. Ellis?”

“Just calling to thank you for a fantastic party and to tell you to put that poor boy out of his misery and take him out,” Warren says. 

“Have you been talking to Kristan?” Grant asks suspiciously. 

“We had a wonderful discussion about you behind your back last night,” Warren tells him. “But we didn’t need to talk about this in particular—it’s painfully obvious, is all.”

“Did I make an ass of myself?” Grant moans.

“No more than usual,” Warren says. “But I have eyes.” 

Grant resists the urge to put his head in his hands. After a moment’s expectant silence, he sighs and admits, “I was trying to work out how to ask him to lunch.”

“Not dinner?” Warren asks.

“I would like to actually talk to him, not just shag him,” Grant says tiredly. 

Warren huffs, and Grant expects another teasing comment. But Warren just says, “You should take him to that little Mediterranean place in Covent Garden. And even if it’s lunch, don’t let him pay. And tell him it is not a business lunch.” 

Grant bites back a smile. “Warren, I wouldn’t expect you to be such the font of suggestions. Done this lately?”

“Of course not,” Warren replies. “But you’re being daft and _someone_ has to help you along.”

“What did I do to deserve such a motley crew of meddlesome friends?” Grant wonders, sighing theatrically. 

“Incompetence,” Warren snorts.

“Fuck you all,” Grant says lightly. “And thanks for the restaurant recommendation.”

“Don’t cock this up,” Warren tells him sternly. 

Grant just laughs. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“Anytime, my friend,” Warren replies and hangs up. Right. Inviting Gerard to lunch. 

* * *

Two days after the dinner party, Gerard is working on a project for one of the design firm’s clients when his cell phone rings. 

“Hello, Grant,” he says when he picks up. 

“I know you’re at work, sorry,” Grant says. “But do you have a moment?” 

“Sure, let me grab my smokes and I’ll walk downstairs. What are you up to?”

“Boring things like signing cheques for bills. I _like_ signing royalty cheques. This is just tedious,” Grant replies. “Which is why I called you.” 

“I’m not boring?” Gerard asks.

“You’re _much_ more interesting than these cheques,” Grant promises. “Also I wanted to invite you to lunch.”

“Lunch?” Gerard asks. 

“Yes, if you have a free hour midday sometime soon. Warren told me about a lovely Mediterranean place near your office. Heaven knows why he’d know _that_ ,” Grant replies. 

Gerard grins. “No fucking idea. Total mystery.”

“Is that a yes?” Grant asks.

“Yes,” Gerard replies with a grin. “I’d love to.” He can’t help but wonder why Grant was talking to Warren about getting lunch with him. 

“Excellent,” says Grant, and Gerard doesn’t think he’s imagining the pleasure in Grant’s voice. “Is there a day later this week that would suit? Thursday, perhaps?”

“Suits me,” Gerard says. “Do you need me to bring my notebook?” 

“Just yourself,” Grant replies.

“Okay,” Gerard replies. Grant tells him where the place is and Gerard jots down the information. “See you then,” he says and hangs up. His Thursday just got a whole lot more interesting.  

*

Gerard can’t sleep - or concentrate - on Wednesday night, and he ends up hunched over his bathtub, dyeing his hair black. He makes a face at the ring of black around his hairline. His mother taught him better than that. He’ll just have to shower in the morning and scrub vigorously. He feels better with it back to normal, though. Black is a helluva lot less work than the white was at any rate. And honestly, it feels more like _him_. 

Grant looks surprised when he sees Gerard outside the restaurant the next day. “Why the change?” he asks. 

“Less work. And it felt kind of like being in costume twenty-four-seven,” Gerard replies. 

“The black is striking with your skin,” Grant tells him. “Ready for a good meal?”

“What if it’s not?” Gerard teases, but Grant shrugs, unconcerned. 

“Then we mock Warren.”

“An even trade,” Gerard says with a grin and they go inside. They don’t have to wait long for a table, and soon they’re seated and looking over the menu. It looks fantastic, and Gerard is too busy flipping through and answering Grant’s occasional questions and comments to think much about anything else until they’ve ordered. “So what’s new at Invisible?” Gerard asks as he sips his Moroccan mint tea. 

“Kelly Sue signed,” Grant says with a satisfied smile. “Also, we’re working on acquiring a poet.”

“Ooh, that would be totally awesome. Anyone I’d know?” he asks. 

“Not sure,” Grant replies. “She was an open submission, like yourself.” He sips his own tea. “But I don’t want to monopolize our conversation with business talk, Gerard. I could, mind you,” he laughs.

“I wouldn’t be offended if you did,” Gerard says. “But if you’d rather not, I can probably talk about any number of subjects for a really long time.”

“Yourself?” Grant says, with a bit of a twinkle in his eye.

Gerard laughs. “I can talk about myself more than anything else, probably.”

“Then aren’t we both fortunate it’s a subject of mutual interest?” Grant smiles over his tea.

“What do you want to know?” Gerard asks. 

“What do you want to tell me?”

“Cheater,” Gerard says. “Let’s see. When I was fifteen, I worked at a comic shop and we got robbed at gun point.”

“And what came of that experience? Other than perhaps brown trousers?” 

“I’m eating,” Gerard complains.

Grant laughs. “Don’t tell me you don’t have a strong stomach. I won’t believe it.” When Gerard doesn’t answer, Grant prompts, “Well? Did your life flash before your eyes?”

“Yeah, kind of,” Gerard replies. “I was fucking terrified. I mean, I was fifteen. There wasn’t much life to flash, but… I didn’t swear to live a life in the pursuit of justice or anything.”

Grant laughs. “Not Batman, then.” 

“We joked right after about that,” Gerard says. “I was scared though. It wouldn’t be the first time. Jersey -” 

“Sounds a lot like Glasgow,” Grant finishes.

Gerard smiles. “I haven’t been up there yet. I’ve done Edinburgh, but not Glasgow.”

“I’ll have to have you to my country house sometime,” Grant says. 

“I’d like that,” Gerard says. “It’s always better when a native shows you around.”

“Consider it an open invitation.” Grant smiles. Gerard can’t take his eyes off of him.

“Okay,” Gerard says. “So, did you ever get held up at gun point in Glasgow?”

“I don’t know if I ought to answer that either way,” Grant smiles. “I want you to visit, but I also want you to think I’m tough.” He winks.

Gerard grins. “Well, I call Jersey home, so that probably wouldn’t keep me away.”

“London’s not home yet?” Grant asks gently. Gerard blinks. 

“It is, really. I love it here and I don’t want to leave. But I think Jersey will always be home in that way that where you grow up always is. Sick of hearing about me yet?” Gerard asks.

“Not at all. Tell me more,” Grant says. 

“I really want to know more about you,” Gerard admits.

“I can do that,” Grant says. “What do you want to know?” 

“Tell me about your family,” Gerard says. 

Grant smiles, looking a little sad. “My father was …larger than life. He died recently. But my mother and sister are still with us. Still in Scotland. I see them as often as I can manage.”

“Older sister or younger?” Gerard asks. “I have a little brother.”

“Younger,” Grant says.  “We…weren’t always close.”

“But you are now?” Gerard asks. 

Grant nods. “Much closer than we once were.” 

“My brother and I have always been close. Not being able to see him often is the worst thing about living here.”

“My mum is ill,” Grant adds after a moment.

Gerard immediately reached out to squeeze his arm. “I’m so sorry to hear that.”

Grant takes a breath. “That’s life, I suppose. The good and the bad together. She has good days and bad days. I try to visit often.” He smiles. 

Gerard squeezes again. “When my grandma got sick, it was hard to reconcile that reality to the one in my head.” 

Grant nods. “That’s it exactly.”

Their food arrives, and conversation shifts to other things. Gerard is a little surprised at how easy it is to just shoot the shit with Grant with nothing and nobody to direct the conversation. Grant is more fascinating than Gerard would have even imagined.

He’s shocked to realize that it’s very nearly time for him to be back at the office. He doesn’t want to finish his tea because that would definitely mean they’d have to leave. He smiles at Grant. “Too bad I don’t get afternoon-long lunches.”

“The benefits of being your own boss,” Grant agrees.

“Someday, I’m gonna quit my job and write full-time and it’s gonna be great,” Gerard says. “For now, I should probably get back to work.”

“May I walk you?” Grant asks.

“That would be great,” Gerard says. 

When the waitress brings the check, Grant snatches it and doesn’t let Gerard give him any money. “My invitation, my treat. And it was one,” he says. That sends every butterfly in Gerard’s chest swirling, no matter how hard he tries to calm them down. Fuck. 

“Fine, fine,” he says as casually as he can manage. Grant signs for their food and they start waking toward Gerard’s office building. Grant offers his arm, just as he had at the dinner. Gerard doesn’t even hesitate for a second; he takes it. And it isn’t theatrical, like it was the other night, it’s just- it’s nice. It’s dangerous to let himself think like this, but Grant started it and he’s having such a good fucking time. “My lunch tomorrow will be so boring,” Gerard laughs. “But don’t tell Jamie, he’s just not you. That is -”

Grant gives him a cheeky grin. “Oh, I won’t tell. Well,” he says consideringly, “Maybe, if I’m really trying take the piss.”

“Please don’t,” Gerard says, employing an entreating look.

“I suppose it’s enough that I’m facilitating your escape from the world of corporate design,” Grant says, after a moment of consideration.

“Fuck, I hope so,” Gerard says. 

“I feel good about this book,” Grant murmurs. “And I feel good about our marketing plans.”

“I feel good about you knowing what you’re doing,” Gerard replies with a smile.

Gerard is reluctant to let go of Grant’s arm when they finally reach the office building. “Thank you for having lunch with me,” Grant says with a bright grin. 

“I’m really glad you invited me.” 

“Does that mean you’ll say yes if I ask you again?” Grant asks mildly.

“I… yeah,” Gerard grins. “Come and save me from my corporate job any time.”

“I’ll be sure to do that,” Grant says. “Just say the word when you want rescuing and I’ll come.”

He thinks about it on and off for the rest of the day, and even on the ride home. Nick sees him walking up the lane to their building and laughs. “You look like you’re about to walk into a post, mate, or else you did already.”

Gerard grins sheepishly. “Had a good day,” he says.

“Oh, did you?” Nick asks curiously. “What sort of good day?”

“I…think I went on a date.” Gerard pulls a face at Nick, who mimics it back. 

“You think?” 

“Well… I didn’t expect it to be one?”

“I know you’re getting on in years,” Nick tells him, “but there do tend to be signs.” 

“Fuck you,” Gerard says. “It was my publisher. He asked me to lunch. I assumed it was gonna be business-y, but we didn’t really talk business at all, he just wanted to talk about normal things. And he paid.” 

Nick makes a face. “Intriguing.”

“I’m being an idiot about this,” Gerard says, ruefully. “It’s probably nothing.”

“Doesn’t sound like nothing,” Nick says. “That sounds very like something. What did you talk about? And did he say he wanted to do it again?”

“He - yeah,” Gerard admits, and there’s a little curl of warmth in his stomach at the thought of Grant’s easy smile.

“It was a date,” Nick says confidently. “Absolutely.”

“Even though it was lunch?” Gerard can’t quite let himself trust Nick, either. 

“Only way to know is to ask him to dinner, mate. Your treat. If he says yes to that it’s definitely a date.”

It can’t hurt, Gerard decides, thinking about it that night, after having written a little bit and called his mum and sorted out his files for work the next day. He picks up the phone and dials before he can talk himself out of it. 

“Hello?” Grant answers the phone and Gerard smiles just to hear his voice. It’s smooth, warm. 

“Hi, Grant. I’m not calling too late, am I?”

“Of course not,” Grant says, and Gerard can hear the cheeky grin in his voice. “We’re night owls in the publishing business, you know.”

“Of course,” Gerard says. “Having a day job really puts a cramp in the staying up until two am thing.”

“It doesn’t really stop you, does it?” Grant asks. 

Gerard chuckles. “Nope. So I know maybe I should have waited a day or two, but - I really enjoyed our lunch and I’d like to take you to dinner.”

There’s a pause, and Gerard almost swallows his own tongue. Then Grant says, “I would love that, very much.”

Gerard grins. “Good. I was thinking about this little Indian place in Covent Garden? They have a really great vegetarian selection and always play good music.”

“One of my favorites. You’re sweet to remember I’m vegetarian, Gerard.”

“I just- I had a great time this afternoon,” Gerard says. 

“So did I,” Grant replies. “I was thinking of calling you to do it again sooner rather than later.”

“Guess I beat you to it. So when are you free?” Gerard asks.

“I’ve plans the next few evenings,” Grant tells him, sounding regretful. “Would Saturday work for you?” 

“Saturday would be perfect,” Gerard says. 

“Perhaps we can get do something else after,” Grant suggests. “See a show, maybe?” 

“I’d love that,” Gerard says. “ I’m so - well - okay, glad you agreed to it,” he can’t breathe.

“Shall I pick you up?” Grant asks.

“Sure, that’d be great,” Gerard replies. “If you don’t mind coming to the wilds of East London.”

“With the proper incentive, I very much don’t mind.”

“It’s a date, then,” Gerard tells him. He immediately wants to take the words back, but they hang in the air, just waiting.

“Absolutely. Very much looking forward to it, Gerard,” Grant murmurs. “I’ll call you when I leave for your place.”

Gerard hangs up the phone. And stares really hard at a wall for a minute. And then goes and knocks on Nick’s door. “I asked him out for dinner and he said yes,” Gerard says, as soon as Nick opens the door. “And I said it was a date and he said he was looking forward to it.”

Nick grins at him and claps him on the shoulder. “Good for you, mate. Also, I told you it was a date.”

“Well, he is way fucking out of my league, so I don’t even get it, but I guess you were right.” He looks at Nick’s sloppy sweats. “Staying in tonight?”

Nick yawns theatrically. “Nothing interesting going on tonight.”

“You can’t find anything interesting happening in London tonight? Is the world ending and nobody told me?” Gerard teases. 

“Maybe I’ve done everything in London,” Nick drawls.

Gerard makes a concerned face. “But then what will you do now, Nicholas?”

“I expect I’ll do it all again after I’ve had a good night’s rest,” Nick replies.

“Sensible,” Gerard tells him. “Well, I, ah.” Should go.

Nick grins at him and smacks him on the arm. “And wear something _nice_ , yeah? None of this sloppy designer business.”

“I have nice clothes! That I wear!” Gerard protests. Though, to be fair, he does tend toward loose jeans and t-shirts. But he fucking knows how to dress for a date. 

“Well, you’ll never go wrong with a nice snug trouser anyway,” Nick says, ogling. Gerard huffs, but he files the advice away. “You’ll thank me later,” Nick says. “Now get out of here unless you’re going to come in and watch telly with me.”

“I want to,” Gerard says, “but I - work -”

“Oh, go on, old man,” Nick grins, waving him off with a cheeky salute. Gerard rolls his eyes and goes back to his apartment. He wasn’t lying about the work, but first, he has to email his brother about this. 

He’s early to work the next morning, by some sort of weird confluence of public transit, and it - plus the date - puts him in a weirdly great mood. Jamie stares consideringly over a thermal mug when he walks in and sees Gerard already at his desk.

“Have the stars aligned? Has there been some sort of industrial accident? What brings Gerard Way into the office at such an hour?”

“Just a fluke. Line for breakfast was short, so I caught an earlier bus, and then the an early train,” Gerard replies with a shrug. 

“Okay, but that doesn’t explain anything _else_ about the tableau in front of me,” Jamie presses. 

Gerard tries to keep a straight face, but he’s shit at that. “I’m happy?” Jamie takes another sip of his coffee, and he doesn’t say anything. “I have a date,” Gerard says after a beat. 

“With?” This is actually sort of fun. Jamie looks like he’s about to spew his coffee everywhere.

“…Grant,” Gerard finally says, after a moment’s deliberation. 

Jamie bursts out laughing. “I don’t know why I even asked. Of course.” 

“What do you mean, of course?” He hadn’t even told anyone about the lunch. Except Nick.

Jamie scoffs. “I saw the way you were mooning over each other at dinner, Gerard.” 

“Were we?” Gerard asks. “It didn’t feel… I don’t know.”

“You really were. It was - well, sorta funny, but cute.”

Gerard frowns. “And it’s not - he’s my editor. I don’t want to be that author, you know?” 

“Gerard, believe me when I tell you no one will think that. You’re fucking good at what you do, with or without Grant as your editor,” Jamie says. “And Grant is way too invested in the press to do anything he thinks would hurt it. Er. That didn’t come out right,” Jamie grimaces.

“No, I - I know,” Gerard tells him. He does. It’s one of the reasons that he feels (cautiously) good about this. 

“I’m pleased for you, Gee,” Jamie says. “And for what it’s worth, I think you and Grant could be a great couple.”

Gerard smiles, small. “It’s just one date. Well, two.”

“Two?” Jamie asks, raising an eyebrow.

“We had lunch together the other day,” Gerard explains. “I didn’t really realize it was a date until the end.” Jamie doesn’t seem surprised, and Gerard narrows his eyes. “You knew.”

“I may have heard something through the grapevine,” Jamie says, airily. 

“From Warren? Who heard from Grant?” Gerard grins when Jamie nods. “How often do you two talk, anyway?”

“He likes to give me grief on twitter,” Jamie shrugs. 

“And he gave you grief about Grant taking me to lunch on Twitter?” Gerard asks. 

“Noooo,” Jamie says slowly. Gerard smirks. Shoe, foot.

* 

Gerard figures it will be hard to wait for Saturday, but then one of the design firm’s clients has a last minute crisis, and he spends the rest of the work week putting out fires. He mostly stays on top of things, but it involves late nights and frantic re-designs and by the time Friday comes, he’s really, really grateful to get out of the office and go home.

He doesn’t even think about his date the next day until he sees Nick dressed to go out coming down the stairs toward him. “You just getting in, love?” Nick asks.

Gerard grimaces, and nods. “The office tried to keep me. I barely escaped.” He holds up his bag of takeout curry like it’s the spoils of war.

“Least you have a date to look forward to tomorrow, eh?” Nick says sympathetically. 

Gerard groans. “I am so not ready.”

Nick laughs in his face. “Do you need a fairy godmother, Gerard?” he asks. Gerard imagines Nick helping him dress and tries to keep the horrified look off his face. “Oi,” Nick says. “Fine, then, ignore my selfless offer.”

It’s Gerard’s turn to laugh, then. “Selfless? You just want to see what kind of ridiculous outfits you can get me in, Nicholas, be honest.”\

Nick’s eyes shift back and forth. “Maybe. But you’d be hot. I have excellent taste.”

“You have excellent taste for you, but Grant is expecting me to show up,” Gerard replies.

Nick sighs. “Fine, fine. But I _will_ expect details afterwards, do you hear me?”

“Of course, Nicholas. As if I’d deprive you,” Gerard replies with a grin. 

“Be off with you then,” Nick says, flicking his fingers at Gerard, who carries his food upstairs to eat before he passes out.

The next day he forces himself to work on his manuscript, instead of just sitting around and fretting all morning. He’s amazed at how fucking far it’s come along these past few months, and he knows he owes a huge chunk of that to what an amazing editor Grant is.

He finally lets himself close the file a couple of hours before Grant is meant to pick him up. He takes a quick shower and then stands in front of his closet with his towel around his waist and contemplates his options. Remembering what Nick had said, he pulls out a sleek black suit.

Weirdly, the nerves don’t hit until he’s standing in front of his mirror and giving the complete outfit a once-over. And even then, he’s not nervous about the date itself. The thing that his brain has decided to fixate on is: what if, despite the mountain of evidence to the contrary, he’s reading this wrong? He tries to convince himself that even if he is, it will be okay. He’ll be friends with Grant and that would be great. Which. It would. Just… he can’t deny he’ll be horribly disappointed if he’s wrong. 

“Cheer up,” he tells his reflection. His phone buzzes: Grant’s downstairs waiting. “Okay,” he murmurs to himself. “Okay.”

He goes down as Grant pushes open the door of his yellow Corvette and grins at Gerard. Gerard drools a little. For more than one reason. Grant is wearing one of his gorgeous fucking suits. Combined with the car, he looks like a flashy James Bond type. 

“Hi,” Gerard says as he buckles himself in. 

“Hello, Gerard. Nice suit.” 

“Thanks. You, too.” 

The car _growls_ when Grant pulls it away from the curb. Gerard just sits back and soaks in the beauty of the car while Grant navigates himself out of Gerard’s neighborhood and toward the West End. “Now I know why you wanted to drive me,” he says happily.

Grant flashes him a grin that Gerard feels all the way down in the pit of his stomach. 

“How was your week?” Grant asks after a few minutes. 

“Long,” Gerard replies immediately. “And work was exhausting. I’ve definitely been looking forward to this.”

“Me too, Gerard,” Grant smiles. 

The Indian restaurant is tucked away in an area that really comes alive at this time of the evening. Grant parks, and they head inside, where they’re led out to a seat on a well-appointed patio. It’s a gorgeous evening and there’s a lovely view, but Gerard can’t take his eyes off Grant for longer than a few seconds. He probably wouldn’t notice if food ever showed up; he just wants to talk to Grant, to listen to Grant.

Grant is in the middle of fucking hilarious story about Warren and the Canadian ambassador when he stops, looking inquisitively at Gerard, and Gerard realizes he’s been staring at Grant like a love-sick moron. 

“I. Um. Sorry, I was just…” there’s really nothing he can say, so, “staring.”

“For any particular reason?” Grant asks, sounding fairly unconcerned.

“I really want to kiss you,” Gerard blurts out. Immediately, he wants to take the words back- he  wants to punch himself in the _face_. 

But Grant _smiles_ at him, wide and happy. He reaches across the table to take Gerard’s hand. “I wouldn’t stop you.”

“I - _good._ The table might, though.”

“I never object to getting creative,” Grant says, low. 

Gerard smiles and his cheeks heat. “That’s good to know. I guess that settles any lingering questions about whether this is a date,” he adds weakly.

Grant’s grin turns a little sheepish. “I very much wanted it to be,” he admits. “The lunch, too.”

“Yeah, I sort of figured that out. With Nick’s help,” Gerard says with a grin. 

“And who is Nick?” Grant asks curiously. “I don’t think you’ve mentioned him before.”

“He’s my neighbor. Friend. He seems to have adopted me. Likes to give me advice, or crap, I’m not entirely sure which sometimes.”

“I see,” Grant says, laughing a little. “That sort of friendship certainly sounds familiar.”

Gerard laughs too. “He gives me shit for being old, I give him shit for being a party kid. He’s going to end up doing _something_ , though. I’ve got a feeling.”

“You’ve got a good eye, and ear,” Grant tells him. “Aside from the fact that I really do want to kiss you back, I love your work, genuinely.”

Gerard couldn’t stop his stupid grin if he tried. “It’s better with you,” he tells Grant. 

“Most things are,” Grant says and winks. 

Gerard laughs. “True enough.”

After Gerard recovers from his dumbass staring and word vomit - even though he’d gotten a great reaction - they have a pleasant dinner. Grant keeps giving him these _looks_ , though. It’s pretty gratifying. Gerard kind of wants to just skip dinner and the play they’re going to after. 

They finish their dinner and Gerard takes the check, scowling at Grant dramatically when he attempts to protest. “I invited you,” Gerard reminds Grant. 

“I get to invite next time,” Grant insists. 

“Also, you got lunch. It’s only fair.” 

Grant smiles at him. “Fine, fine.”

It’s not really a surprise when Grant corners him in the vestibule of the restaurant and puts his hands on Gerard’s hips. “Is this…” Grant begins, but Gerard cuts him off by pressing their lips together. It’s just a quick, light thing, but Grant hums, low in his throat.

“Fuck,” Gerard whispers. 

“Agreed,” Grant says. 

“I’m going to need to do that again. But not right now because if I start, I won’t stop,” Gerard says, fingering Grant’s lapels. 

“Do you have any idea how tempting that sounds?” Grant asks.

“Oh, I know,” Gerard murmurs. “I… I really want to just take you home with me. Or go home with you. But we have tickets to a show.”

“And I do want to see it,” Grant says. “And perhaps hold your hand while we watch.”

“You can start right now,” Gerard tells him.

Grant kisses him again. It’s still light, but there’s promise in it. And then Grant takes Gerard’s hand and laces their fingers together. Gerard squeezes and they walk toward the theatre. He really is excited for the play. And Grant’s hand feels nice in his. “Things are not usually this easy for me,” he says.

“I’m glad that… Well. I’m just glad,” Grant grins.

Gerard grins back. “Speaking of easy… does this mean I can ask about you and Kristan without seeming overly nosy or rude?” 

“That’s such ancient history,” Grant laughs. “Of course you can.”

“You’ve know each other a  long time,” Gerard observes.

“A long, long time. Our relationship just… didn’t work out. For a while, we weren’t friends, but then we saw each other at a party and decided we were much better off in each other’s lives and we’d rather be friends,” Grant explains. 

“And business partners?”

“That came later,” Grant says. “You’ve heard the story, I think.”

Gerard nods. “You seem to work well together.” 

“We do. She stops me from being an organizational catastrophe and is a rather competent editor herself,” Grant replies. “And there’s no reason to be jealous,” he adds in a whisper. 

“I wasn’t sure I was allowed to be jealous,” Gerard says, honestly. “Now…” He squeezes Grant’s hand again.

Grant squeezes back. “You needn’t be. Kristan is one of my dearest friends, but that is all we are.” 

They reach the theater and get their tickets out and file inside. They were right not to skip the play - it’s fantastic. And Grant keeps hold of Gerard’s hand the entire time. That’s fantastic, too. 

When it’s over, they walk out and hold hands as they make their way back to Grant’s car. They talk about the play, about the things that worked, the few things that didn’t. It’s _fun_.

Grant looks steadily at Gerard once they’re both buckled in. “Where to, Gerard?” he murmurs.

Gerard takes a deep breath. This whole evening has felt slow and sweet, but… “My place? Or yours. I don’t fucking care which, I just-” Grant pulls Gerard’s hand to his lips. “Mine is closer,” Gerard says. 

“Then let’s go there,” Grant responds. 

The drive back to Gerard’s building seems to take both forever and no time at all. They climb the steps up to Gerard’s flat- Gerard peers warily around for Nick, but apparently Nicholas is out on the town tonight- and Gerard barely fumbles at all for his keys. 

“Cute flat,” Grant says with a grin.

“Thanks,” Gerard says. “I like it. One of the reasons I’ve stayed in East London when I possibly could have relocated. Did you want anything? Water? Diet Coke?” 

“Just you,” Grant murmurs and puts his hands on Gerard’s hips.  

“Grant,” Gerard says, low. He wraps his hands gently around the curve of Grant’s skull and tugs, bringing their mouths together. Grant kisses soft and sweet, with an edge that promises he could get properly demanding given the chance. Gerard slides his arms around Grant’s waist and kisses back until they’re breathless. “Couch?” Gerard asks when he pulls back to breathe. 

“Excellent,” Grant agrees. Gerard tugs him over to the living room. He has to stop to move a stack of comic books to the coffee table, and Grant laughs.

“You wouldn’t like me nearly as much if I didn’t read so much,” Gerard says.

“I doubt you’d be you if you didn’t read as much, so if I liked you, it’d be a different person I liked,” Grant says and sits on the couch. He pulls Gerard down next I him. 

“That’s some logic,” Gerard teases. Fuck, he feels… happy. Really fucking happy. He laces their fingers together again, just because. Grant leans down and kisses him again, softly and with little attempt at hurrying. Just like he wanted to taste him. Gerard’s fingers flex and his stomach flutters. Fuck. 

Gerard pushes up a little, re-arranging them so Grant is leaning back against the cushions and Gerard is more or less in his lap. “Oh, yes, this is exactly where you belong,” Grant murmurs, hands smoothing up and down Gerard’s back.

“I really agree,” Gerard murmurs and presses his lips to Grant’s, lets his tongue slide over Grant’s bottom lip. 

They lose time like that, just making out and touching each other, and the thing is, it’s not dirty at all. Sure, some of the things Grant’s doing with his tongue probably couldn’t be called anything _other_ than dirty, but this doesn’t feel like foreplay. He leans in and nuzzles against Grant’s neck. “Grant…this is nice.”

“It is very nice indeed,” Grant confirms.

Grant seems to be feeling it, too, because he doesn’t press at all. They just kiss each other, over and over again. Grant sinks his fingers into Gerard’s hair and pulls back to look at him. “Fuck, you’re beautiful. I think I could kiss you for a thousand years and not grow tired of it,” Grant tells him. 

“Pretty fucking mutual,” Gerard murmurs. His lips feel swollen. “It is getting late, though. Were you -” Gerard takes a deep breath. “We should… I don’t want to… fuck.”

Grant pulls Gerard to him again and rests their foreheads together.

“Are we taking this slowly?” he murmurs. “That’s all right with me, Gerard.”

“I… yeah, I think we are,” Gerard replies. “I think I forgot what slow feels like.”

“Slow can be wonderful,” Grant says. He strokes a thumb over Gerard’s cheekbone.

“I think anything with you will be,” Gerard admits.

Grant smiles wide at him. “I shall certainly endeavor to live up to your expectations.”

Gerard can’t help but kiss Grant again, then, and they make out for a while longer, slow and warm and really fucking good. Finally, Grant pulls back. “Let’s do this again soon,” he says.

“Please,” Gerard breathes and extracts himself from Grant’s lap.  Gerard stands up and offers his hand, tugging Grant to his feet when Grant takes it. “I’m… really fucking glad that this was a date,” Gerard tells him. 

“Me too,” Grant murmurs and leans in to kiss him again. “I’ll call you tomorrow,” he promises. 

“Okay,” Gerard says against Grant’s mouth.

“Goodnight,” Grant murmurs back. 

Gerard walks him to the door and watches him go down the stairs. Grant waves from the bottom of the stairs and then disappears around the corner. Gerard shuts the door and leans back against it. He’s pretty sure he’s _never_ going to stop smiling. 

He falls into bed thinking about how good it had felt to have Grant pressed up against him. He touches two fingers to his swollen lips, just remembering. Grant kisses like he does everything else - insanely well. Gerard wants so much more. Right now, though, he wants to jerk off and go to sleep. 

He slides his other hand down his chest, his stomach, under the waistband of his shorts. He’d wanted this from Grant, make no mistake, had rubbed up against him with every fiber imagining more. Slow is going to be difficult, he thinks as he wraps a hand around his cock. But maybe fun too. 

The hand still at his lips presses, just a little, just enough to feel a  burst of soreness. It’s fucking good, and his cock gives a little kick. He imagines soreness of a different type, imagines what it would be like to have Grant in his mouth. Fuck, that would be good. He’s checked Grant out. He knows Grant would fill his mouth, stretch it wide. He’d take it, though; he’d fucking love it. 

Gerard strokes himself firmly, too tired to pace himself. It feels so good, especially imagining that he’s doing this while Grant’s fucking his mouth. It’s easy to imagine other things, too, like Grant fucking him for real, sliding in deep. Jesus, but Gerard wants that. He wants Grant all over him. Whatever part of him had wanted to take it slow earlier is being silent now, the rest of him busy imagining how good it will be. 

It doesn’t take him long to come, a little louder than he should. He can’t help it. He grabs a couple of tissues from his bedside table and gives himself a few half-hearted swipes. He’s going to be asleep within minutes. Maybe less.

The problem with jerking off to thoughts of a specific person, is they’re not _there_ to fall asleep next to. Part of him is wondering why they’d decided to wait at all. But the rest of him is kind of looking forward to this, because he has a feeling that it’s going to be good.

* * *

Grant lets himself into his townhouse with a small sigh. He wishes now that Gerard were with him, but at the same time, he’s content with the decision they made. 

He hadn’t been lying: going slowly can be wonderful, if maddening. And while it’s been years since he ended a date with lazy kisses on a couch, instead of in a bed, he can’t say that it wasn’t fantastic. Whatever Gerard’s reasons for hesitating, he’ll work with them.

He has a good feeling about Gerard. Possibly the best he’s had since Kristan. He falls into bed thinking about Gerard’s brilliant mind and his clever hands. 

Warren calls the next day. “As much as it pains me, I am having a house party weekend from next and you’re on the guest list.”

“Your life is a goddamn tragedy, isn’t it?” Grant teases. 

Warren sighs heavily. “They’re going to write songs about me, Moz.”

“Are they songs about how you push away the things that make you happy?” Grant asks mildly.

“I can rescind your invitation,” Warren threatens. 

“Oh, it’s far too late for that,” Grant tells him. “Weekend after next, you say? Who else can I expect?”

“Fraction and Kelly Sue are visiting, lest you forgot? So I’ve invited them and the boys. And your boy, as well, if you think he’d say yes.”

Grant grins into the phone. “I think he’d say yes in a heartbeat.”

“Shall I call him, or do you want that pleasure?” 

Grant hums, and briefly lets himself get distracted at the thought of a weekend in the country with Gerard. “I’ll ask him. I need to ring him anyway, to talk about his manuscript.”

“Yes, I’m sure that’s the only reason you need to ring him. Don’t think I don’t know you two had a date last night,” Warren says. “In fact, I figured I had an outside chance of catching both of you together. No?”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” Grant demurs, and he laughs when Warren roundly curses him down the phone line. “I’ll ask him,” Grant promises when Warren is done. 

“Cheers,” Warren says sourly. Grant laughs some more.

They talk a bit longer, and after they’ve said their goodbyes, Grant pulls up the most recent copy of Gerard’s manuscript. He hadn’t been lying to Kristan; he’s confident in his ability to stay professional as Gerard’s editor, no matter what may being going on between them. He loves Gerard’s work and wants to help him make it the best it can possibly be. 

And if he’s looking forward to a holiday at the seaside with Gerard, well, that’s separate.

He reads over the revisions that Gerard’s made to this version of the draft, making notes of things to discuss. He loves his job. Loves being able to read a good story and shape it into a great story. It’s just extra special when it’s someone as special as Gerard.

He comes to a newly-added section—one that Hammer would never have allowed—and doesn’t bother to suppress his laughter. He _loves_ this story. And he is relatively certain he could come to love Gerard as much as he loves Gerard’s writing. And as easily. Slow or not slow.

Surprisingly, he finds that he isn’t in any kind of a rush. Whatever he and Gerard eventually become—and Grant can admit that he has hopes for what that will be—he thinks that the process of getting there will be as satisfying as the end result.

He works for a couple of hours before picking up his mobile and dialing Gerard. Gerard answers on the second ring. “Hi,” he says and Grant can just tell he’s smiling. 

“Hello, love,” he replies. “Business, and some pleasure, pick one to start with.”

“Pleasure,” Gerard says, immediately. “Otherwise I’ll be too distracted to focus on the business.”

Grant laughs. “Would you like to go out to Warren’s place with me next weekend? Kieron and Jamie will be there and you’ll be able to meet Fraction and Kelly Sue.”

“Oh, wow, awesome. Yes, of course.” Then he adds, “That’s our weekend in the pool, you know.”

Grant glances at his desk calendar and says, “So it is. Interesting. If anyone can badger it out of them, it’d be Kelly Sue.” 

Gerard laughs. “I can’t wait to meet her.”

“You’ll love both of them,” Grant assures him. “And I will love spending so much time with you.”

“I’m really fucking excited about that part,” Gerard admits. 

Grant smiles. “Aside from that, I wanted to reiterate what a wonderful time I had last night.”

“Me too,” Gerard replies. “I wouldn’t be opposed to a repeat.”

“Some evening next week, perhaps?” Grant suggests. 

“That sounds perfect,” Gerard replies. “Maybe… takeout and a movie at your place?”

“That sounds very perfect,” Grant says warmly. He takes a deep breath, and glances down at his notes. “Now, let’s talk about the scenes you added to chapter eleven, hmm?”

“Did you like them?” Gerard asks, his voice nervous. 

“I genuinely loved them,” Grant replies. “I like seeing what you can do off the leash.”

“I wanted your opinion on the scene in the crypt,” Gerard tells him.

“That was my favorite part,” Grant says sincerely. “It was genuinely chilling. I did want to talk a bit about the dialogue in the chapel scene, though.”

“Bring it,” says Gerard, and Grant feels his lips quirk up in a smile as he leans back in his desk chair. They talk about the scene for several minutes. “I’ll work on it now and send you the edits in the morning,” Gerard promises. 

“Very good, Gerard. I’ll look forward to hearing from you.”

“And call me about next week, yeah? Or, you know, you can just… Call me. Whenever.”

“I will,” Grant promises. “We let’s plan on Tuesday or Wednesday for our evening in?”

“Tuesday,” Gerard suggests. 

“All right,” Grant replies. “See you then.”

“Looking forward to it,” says Gerard, and there’s a low note in his voice that makes something flare low in Grant’s belly. He cannot _wait_ to have Gerard in his arms again. He opens the manuscript and starts reading from the beginning again to distract himself. 

* * *

Gerard keeps telling himself that he only has to get through Monday and then work on Tuesday and he can see Grant. It actually sort of works. The trouble is, for once, his job is slow enough that it’s not much of a distraction. And he spends most of the rest of his time working on editing his manuscript… which makes him think about Grant, which makes him impatient for Tuesday. 

They talk, because Grant tends to call at a certain point each evening. Gerard figures it’s when he finally takes a dinner break. Just like all the other times they’ve talked on the phone, the conversation moves from the manuscript, to their days, to whatever happens to come up. Gerard loves it. 

He’s really fucking glad to have Grant— as an editor, a friend, or… whatever it is they might be moving towards becoming. Slowly. Gerard thinks he might be ready to speed things up a bit. He _really_ can’t wait for tomorrow night. 

“So, should I just come over straight after work? I can pick up food on the way.”

“That sounds perfect,” Grant replies. 

“That means you eat what I bring you,” Gerard teases.

“As long as it’s vegetarian, I don’t mind,” Grant replies. “Whatever you’re craving.”

“What I’m craving, huh?” Gerard laughs weakly.

“Whatever you like,” Grant says, voice low. 

“That’s. Shit. A lot of things. You,” Gerard continues. “I like you.”

“Then I’m sure along with the food and conversation, we can work in a little me too,” Grant replies. 

“’Kay,” Gerard breathes. “Can’t wait to see you.”

“Nor can I. Let me know if there are any problems tomorrow,” Grant says. 

“It’s a problem that it’s so far away. I - night, Grant.”

“Good night, Gerard,” Grant replies and they hang up. 

* 

He shows up at Grant’s door the next night with a bag full of fragrant Italian food and a smile. Grant beams at him and leans in for a kiss. “Now you can come in,” he says when he pulls back. Gerard goes willingly. Grant’s place is lovely, and he looks around with interest. “I love this flat dearly, but it’s not quite home,” Grant says as he unloads the bag. “I’ll have to take you to Scotland sometime.”

“I’d love to,” Gerard breathes. Grant fetches plates from a cabinet and hands one over, hesitates, then kisses him again.

Gerard kisses back. “Fuck, I’ve been wanting to do that since you left the other night.”

“Me too. So much.”

“We’re never going to eat if we keep doing this,” Gerard gasps against Grant’s lips after several minutes.  

“But it’s so nice,” Grant protests. 

“So is the food,” Gerard promises. “Also, I haven’t eaten in a million years and I want to keep up my energy.” 

Grant laughs. “Then we shall feed you. We wouldn’t want you collapsing.” They fill plates and retreat to the sofa. Grant brings Gerard a Pellegrino and himself a glass of wine. “How was work?” Grant asks after a few minutes of eating. 

“It’s been slow. My mind’s been wandering,” Gerard admits.

“Wandering to pleasant places, I hope?” Grant asks. 

Gerard grins. “Very pleasant. Sometimes _too_ pleasant.”

“Funny, I’ve suffered from the same affliction since our last date.” Grant dabs at his mouth with a napkin.

“Have you? It’s good to know I’m not alone in this. How was work for you?”

“Well enough,” Grant replies. “I read a few submissions when I wasn’t being distracted by my own thoughts.”

“Expanding your empire?” Gerard teases.

“Someone’s got to show you all that there’s a better way,” Grant says loftily. 

“Yes, of course, O Fearless Leader,” Gerard teases.

“Hush,” Grant says, but he’s smiling.

Gerard grins at him and pops a meatball into his mouth. “So, I get to meet more of the crew this weekend?” He asks when he’s done chewing. 

“So I’ve been told. You’ll like them. And they’ll like you.”

“Kieron and Jamie will be there, right? And Warren?” 

“And Matthew and Kelly Sue,” Grant replies. “They’re Warren’s Americans. Mine now too, I suppose.”

“Are you collecting Americans?” Gerard teases lightly. 

“Perhaps.”

They finish eating, and clearing the table turns into kissing in the kitchen. Grant has Gerard up against the counter, their hips are flush, and Grant’s hands are wandering. Gerard really fucking likes where this is going. 

“I think I ought to have you pick a movie you’ve seen a million times before,” he murmurs.

“That sounds like an excellent plan,” Grant says, kissing along Gerard’s jawline. Eventually, they shuffle back into the living room and Grant gets as far as turning on the TV when Gerard tugs him against his body. 

“I don’t actually care about the movie at all,” Gerard tells him.

Grant gives him a warm, filthy grin. “That’s quite scandalous, Mister Way.”

“I like scandalous. Makes things more interesting,” Gerard says and leans up to kiss him. 

“Mm hmm,” Grant hums and backs him up onto the sofa. After a bit of shuffling around, Gerard’s laid out on his back with Grant straddling his hips, laying teasing kisses on his throat. Gerard arches up into it, and his hands grip Grant’s hips.

“You are so lovely to kiss,” Grant tells him. 

“You,” Gerard gasps.

Grant slides back down Gerard’s thighs and runs his hands over Gerard’s stomach, toying at his waistband. “May I?” he whispers.

“Go ahead,” Gerard says, a little breathlessly. 

Grant unbuckles Gerard’s belt, tugs open the button of his pants, and pulls down the zip. He reaches in the open fly, fingers devastatingly gentle. Gerard groans when Grant’s hand circles his cock. He’s already mostly hard, Grant gets him the rest of the way with deft touches. It’s so fucking good. Gerard moans and reaches for Grant’s free hand. 

“Grant, you - want you,” he pants.

“You have me,” Grant tells him, and bends down for another kiss.

As they kiss, Gerard stretches his hands out to work on getting Grant’s pants open too. He moans at what he finds - Grant, only half-hard but still huge. Grant makes a soft noise when Gerard touches him. Gerard slides his other hand around to cup Grant’s ass and pulls him down, grinding his own hips up at the same time. This time, they both moan.

“Fuck,” Gerard gasps. Grant gets his hand around both their cocks and starts stroking slowly. “Grant,” he moans, “God, that’s so good.”

Grant chuckles, low and filthy. “You like that, gorgeous?”

“Yes,” Gerard moans and thrusts his hips up, his cock sliding against Grant’s. Grant sucks in a breath and keeps stroking, slow and gentle. Gerard grabs roughly at the back of Grant’s head and pulls him down for another kiss. Between Grant’s hand and his tongue, Gerard feels fucking amazing. Like he’s floating higher and higher. He slides his hands up under Grant’s shirt and traces his spine. 

It feels like it should be fast, frantic, but it isn’t. Just like the other night, even when he feels so good he could burst from it, he’s not in any rush. Grant’s hand on his cock is slow and steady and so fucking good, and their kisses are deep and lush and wandering. Grant’s lips slide down his neck and he starts sucking at the same spot on he was sucking on earlier. Gerard moans and tips his chin to the side to give Grant better access. 

He can feel it when they both start to get slick in Grant’s hand, their skin sliding more easily, Grant’s thumb pressing against the head making Gerard gasp.

“Grant, Grant, Grant,” he murmurs. 

“Gerard. Beautiful,” Grant whispers in his ear.

Gerard turns his head for a kiss. “Glad you think so,” he murmurs. “You’re- ah- you’re not so bad yourself.”

Grant smiles against his lips. “That is good to hear. Will you come for me, Gerard. Let me see you?”

“Don’t know how…I could… stop myself,” Gerard gasps. “Faster, Grant.”

Grant doesn’t speed up, not really, but his strokes stay strong and sure and Gerard has to, has to kiss him again. Grant finally speeds up his hand just enough to make Gerard gasp and roll his hips. He can feel his cock pulsing in Grant’s hand, gasps out his name as he comes in a rush.

Grant just kisses him again and again; he doesn’t stop. Gerard reaches out and wraps his hand around Grant’s still on his cock. They stroke together. “Your turn,” Gerard murmurs into Grant’s throat.

“Yes,” Grant growls. 

Grant moves his hand away and holds his fingers to Gerard’s mouth as Gerard continues stroking. Gerard sucks Grant’s fingertips into his mouth with a moan.

“Yes,” Grant growls again, right into the skin at the base of Gerard’s throat, and that makes Gerard moan again. He keeps stroking; he wants Grant to lose it for him. 

Grant shifts, pressing his forehead into Gerard’s neck and breathing hard. “C’mon,” Gerard murmurs around Grant’s fingers. 

Grant thrusts into his hand and tips his head down, rests his forehead against Gerard’s chest. “Gerard,” he gasps. His hips roll, giving two or three quick thrusts before he shudders and comes in Gerard’s hand.

Neither of them move. Grant pants into into the dip of Gerard’s throat, and Gerard lets Grant’s fingers slip out of his mouth, and they breathe together. Gerard wraps his arms around Grant’s neck. “Fuck, that was good,” he whispers. 

“You are a delight,” Grant whispers back.

Gerard leans up and catches Grant’s lips again. They kiss and kiss and only stop when the DVD goes back to the menu and the annoying music starts looping. 

Grant disappears down the hall and reappears with wet flannels. They’re both totally wrecked. After Grant cleans them up, Gerard grabs him and pulls him down again. Grant smiles and settles against him. Gerard breathes deep and runs his hands over Grant’s shoulders. 

“That was a good movie,” he jokes, tracing the curve of Grant’s ear.

“Mmm,” Grant replies. 

The handjob felt fucking amazing, but this feels good too. He loves how Grant feels in his arms, how he can feel the little noises of contentment Grant makes in his chest. “Is it the bank holiday yet?” Gerard murmurs, touching Grant’s lips. “I could handle a weekend of this.”

“Soon enough, love,” Grant says, humming. “Maybe we’ll even make it to a bed next time.”

Gerard smiles. “I like beds. But this was pretty fucking great.” 

“Yes, agreed,” Grant answers. 

They stay curled together on the couch, trading lazy kisses, until Gerard has to break away to yawn. “I should head home. I’m already going to be a zombie at work tomorrow.”

Grant runs a hand through his hair and smiles a little. “Also, you don’t want to miss the last tube.” 

“It’s not _that_ late, is it?” Gerard asks, alarmed. 

“No, but it could easily get that late if we kept kissing,” Grant replies. 

“Then I guess we’ll have to stop.” Gerard pouts and Grant chuckles. 

“Get up, love.”

Gerard sighs, but he starts disentangling himself from Grant’s arms. He buttons and zips his pants and buckles his belt. Grant pulls him close and tugs the rest of his clothes into some form of order. 

“You look like you’ve been shagging on a sofa, strangely enough,” Grant teases warmly. “But I think you’ll do.”

They linger by Grant’s front door: one good-night kiss turns into two turns into many. “I should go,” he whispers when they break apart to breathe. 

“If you must,” Grant replies.

“Fuck,” Gerard murmurs. “Okay. I’ll talk to you tomorrow? And then the weekend, yeah?”

“Tomorrow. And likely the day after too,” Grant promises. “Warren has a nice, big house. It’ll be almost like staying in a hotel.”

Gerard laughs the whole way down the sidewalk at the idea of Warren operating a hotel. When he gets home, he falls asleep with a smile on his face.

*

The next two days drag and the only time he doesn’t feel twitchy and bored is when he’s talking to Grant. And occasionally talking dirty to Grant.

“You’re a fucking tease,” Grant gasps, following it with a low, filthy chuckle. 

“If you think I’m not _actually_ going to blow you until you come in my mouth, I’ve been doing this all wrong,” Gerard says. 

“No argument here,” Grant says. “No arguments at all. Where would you like to meet tomorrow, love?”

“I can bring my stuff to the office with me,” Gerard offers. “Meet me there? Or I could come to yours.”

“I can pick you up,” Grant says. “Your office is roughly on the way.”

“Good, can’t come soon enough,” Gerard replies.

“I really agree,” Grant says. “Now, we were discussing your very talented mouth…”

Gerard smiles into the phone. “We were. And you know my plan for you. What are your plans for me?”

“Oh, plans,” Grant says airily. “Stretching you out over the mattress and fucking till we can’t move, most likely.”

“Jesus,” Gerard breathes. 

“I take it you approve?” Grant asks. 

“If you were here, you could reach over and feel how much I fucking approve,” Gerard says. Grant laughs at him, the bastard.

Gerard slides a hand down his stomach and cups himself through his jeans, just to take a little bit of the edge off. He must make some kind of a noise, because Grant laughs again, but lower. “It’s like that, is it?”

“Are you even a little bit surprised?” Gerard asks breathlessly. 

“What do you think I’ve been doing with myself the past few days?” Gerard laughs. Grant gasps a little, over the phone. “Are you touching yourself?” Gerard asks and runs a hand over the front of his pants and cups himself. 

“How can I help it?” Grant replies.

“Fucking- _good_ ,” Gerard murmurs. “Want you to touch yourself for me. I’m doing the same thing over here, babe.” Grant moans down the line and Gerard scrabbles to get his jeans open and his cock out. “Tell me what you’re doing,” he demands.

“Sitting at the desk in my home office with my trousers open, wanking like a fucking teenager.”

Gerard grins and gives himself a good, firm stroke. “Me too. Except I’m on the couch. Fuck, Grant. ”

“Gerard. I wish I were with you.” Grant’s voice is thick.

Gerard groans. “If you _were_ here, it’d be my mouth on your cock.”

“Fuck,” Grant moans. “I bet you do wicked things with that tongue of yours.”

“You’d better fucking _believe_ it, baby,” Gerard tells him. “I’m kind of- ah, fuck- orally fixated.” 

Grant gasps out a laugh. “Really? I hadn’t guessed that with the smoking and nail biting and gum chewing.” 

“Fuck you,” Gerard says, breathless. 

“I will,” Grant growls, panting into the phone. 

“You better,” Gerard replies and strokes his cock faster. “I… fuck. It’s been too long. Wanna feel you everywhere.”

“You will,” Grant promises.  “Everywhere you want me, love.”

Gerard clenches his teeth around a moan and keeps stroking, fast and tight. “Grant,” he breathes. “So close. Wish… fuck.” Gerard moans and comes, arching up from the couch. 

“Fuck,” Grant bites out, panting. “Oh, fuck me, shit- wanna see you. Bet you’re all messed up.”

“So messy, I don’t care though,” Gerard tells him. “Come, Grant, I bet your hand feels good. I know your hand feels good.”

“Gerard,” he moans. He gasps and pants and falls silent. 

“Wish I could see your face,” Gerard murmurs. 

“I want to kiss you so fucking much,” Grant tells him.

“Tomorrow,” Gerard says.

“Can’t come soon enough,” Grant murmurs. 

“It’s gonna be tough not to lean down and blow you in the car,” Gerard says. “But I don’t want to die before you fuck me.”

“Definitely not,” Grant agrees. 

“Maybe some other time.”

They both laugh. “I honestly can’t even tell you how much I’m looking forward to this,” Grant says. “And not just because of the planned fucking.”

“Me, too,” Gerard murmurs. He slides down into the couch, bonelessly, and he hums.

“Sleep well,” Grant says. “I know I will.”

“Yeah,” Gerard murmurs happily. “See you tomorrow.”

He ends the call and just drowses there on the couch for a few minutes. He feels good. Really, really fucking good. It’s an effort to haul himself down to his bedroom and clean up, but he does it, and falls into bed with a happy sigh.

* 

Getting through work the next day is an exercise in will. Gerard drinks a lot of coffee and takes a lot of cigarette breaks and refrains from calling Grant about ten times. 

He runs into Jamie coming out of the break room, and Jamie raises an eyebrow at the giant mug of coffee in Gerard’s hand. “Excited for the weekend, Way?” 

“I guess,” Gerard drawls. 

Jamie just laughs. “Betting you’re just as excited as me.” Jamie tries to keep the smile off his face, but he isn’t quite successful. 

“For the same reasons?” Gerard teases. Jamie clamps his mouth firmly shut. Gerard smirks; he could really use that wager money. “Jamie,” he says more softly.

“It’ll be good to get away from the city for a few days,” Jamie says with a smile. “See you this evening, Way.” Oh well, Gerard thinks. He’s got the weekend. They’ll get it out of him- of _them_ \- one way or another.

Gerard finally fucks off working about twenty minutes before their arranged pickup time. He’ll just go smoke a cigarette or three. He leans against the stone building where he can see when Grant pulls up and pulls out a cigarette. It turns out, he finishes just as Grant pulls up. 

“Hey, gorgeous,” Grant grins at him. 

“You’re early,” Gerard says. “Not complaining, mind.” Grant gets out and rounds the car to the boot to load Gerard’s bag.

“I couldn’t sit around my house any longer or I’d have gone mad,” Grant replies and leans in for a kiss. Gerard gives it, gladly, wrapping his hands around the curve of Grant’s skull and pulling him close. “I think I did,” he mumbles. “I’m hallucinating you now.”

Gerard smiles. “Right here. In the flesh. Smelling like an ash tray.”

Grant grins at him mischievously, and then sticks his nose in Gerard’s neck. Gerard yelps. “You smell delicious,” Grant mumbles against the skin. “Make me get back in the car now or we’ll be here all weekend.”

Gerard squeezes Grant in his arms and gently pushes him away. “I’d rather spend my weekend somewhere there’s a bed nearby.”

“Fair enough,” Grant agrees. He still gives Gerard one more kiss before buckling back into the car and heading southeast.

They get on the highway and Gerard tells him about his encounter with Jamie. “They’re going to crack,” he says confidently. 

“We ought to work together,” Grant replies. “I’ll just use the winnings to take you out anyway.” He grins charmingly.

“Devious,” Gerard grins. “I like it. You’re on, sweetheart.”

The rest of the drive to Southend-on-Sea is pretty much perfect. It’s one of the rare spring days in England when there are hardly any clouds in the sky. Grant’s sports car performs as a hellishly expensive vehicle should, and Gerard sings along with the stereo and watches Grant’s profile. Gerard doesn’t even know what to do with the feelings floating around in his chest right now. All he can do is relax, and enjoy the ride.

It’s not a long drive. Gerard almost wishes it could last longer, but then after couple of wrong turns, they’re pulling up in front of Warren’s house. Grant cheerfully blames the wrong turns on Gerard being a distraction. Gerard cheerfully flips him off, and they gather their bags and head towards the front door.

Warren opens the door with a sour look on his face, but Gerard has come to realize that for Warren, that means affection.

“You didn’t drive off a bluff, then,” he says. “Follow me, I gave you one of the garden bedrooms.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” Grant tells him, mock-grave.

“You always disappoint me,” Warren replied with a long suffering sigh. “I don’t know why I expected different.”

“Are we the first ones here?” Gerard asks. 

“The Americans arrived this morning,” Warren tells them. “They’re napping, but they’ll be up for dinner.” 

“Excellent,” Grant says with a grin. 

“Shall I assume you’ll be napping as well?” Warren asks.

Grant and Gerard exchange a look. It’s tempting, but… They can wait. “Show us your famed garden,” Gerard says when they drop their bags onto the bed. 

Warren nearly cracks a smile. “Follow me,” he says gruffly.

The house is lovely and odd, which is roughly what Gerard had expected, from what he knows of Warren. The garden is even lovelier. A little bit wild and lots of places to sit and read or write in nice weather. He thinks maybe it all says a lot about its owner, and he’s glad to have been invited. Also quite curious to see Grant’s country house as well.

“You’ll want tea. Or coffee, I suppose, foreigner,” Warren sniffs. 

Gerard smiles. “I’ve come to like tea just fine. Coffee tastes like home, though.”

Gerard can actually see the effort Warren expends to not make a smart remark. Grant stifles a chuckle next to him. Warren leads them back inside, to a well-appointed kitchen. “We’ve got both, so choose now or forever hold your peace,” Warren says.

“We’ll both have coffee,” Grant says with a smile that warms Gerard’s cheeks. 

“And I’ll have whiskey,” Warren adds. 

“I would expect nothing less,” Grant tells him. 

Gerard leans back against Grant’s chest and they wait while Warren tinkers with the coffee pot. Grant’s hand settles on his waist, fingertips slipping under the hem of his shirt, not moving, just to touch. Gerard feels so _content_. It’s pretty fucking great. Grant’s body feels good against his and he kind if doesn’t want to move, ever. 

“If you two are going to be revolting, you can leave right now,” Warren says. 

“What happens when you’re being revolting, Warren?” Grant asks.

“It’s my house,” Warren says, smugly. 

“So you admit you _will_ be revolting?” Gerard questions. 

“I reserve the right to be whatever I desire in my own house,” Warren answers.

“Fair enough,” Gerard laughs. “When are Kieron and Jamie showing up, anyway?” 

“Should be here in an hour or so,” Warren replies, fighting a smile. 

“Is this a sign of the apocalypse?” Gerard whispers in Grant’s ear. Grant trails his fingers down Gerard’s throat, and Warren sighs and thumps mugs down in front of them both. 

“I want one,” says a scratchy American voice from the hall. “You’ve emerged,” Warren says, sounding almost pleased. He heads back to the coffee maker, and a woman and a man shuffle into the kitchen. 

Warren pours them coffee. “I’m Kelly and this is Matt,” the woman says. Jetlag and sleepiness don’t stop them from being a really striking couple. He’s tall and slim and scruffy in exactly the way Gerard likes, and she’s tiny and curvy and has a smile almost as bright as her hair.

“Grant we’ve met,” Kelly Sue says. “But you… You’re new. I assume you must be Gerard?”

“That’s me,” Gerard says with a grin. “I’ve heard a lot about you from these unsavory fuckers we call friends.”

Matt laughs. “Oh good, he already has you all figured out, Warren. And Grant, as my wife’s employer I guess I ought to defend you.” 

“Oh no, I enjoy being called unsavory,” Grant laughs too. 

Gerard grins and kisses Grant’s cheek. “That’s how I like you, anyway.” 

“Revolting,” Warren muttered around his mug. 

Kelly Sue walks over and gives him a squeeze. “I’m glad you invited us to visit,” she tells him.

“Humph,” Warren sniffs, but Gerard can tell he’s pleased.

“You said the other two will be here soon?” she asks when she pulls away. 

“They’d better be,” Warren replies. 

“Missing them, are you?” Grant asks, innocently.

“Jamie is a menace and Kieron often doesn’t know his head from a hole in the ground,” Warren grouses. 

“That wasn’t a no,” Matt points out. 

Gerard grins at him, sensing an ally. “Will you be needing a nap when they arrive?” he asks sweetly.

“It’s not too late for me to turn all of you out on your arses,” Warren threatens.

“You’re outnumbered,” Grant tells him. Warren just scowls and takes a sip of his whiskey-spiked tea. Kelly laughs and squeezed his arm. 

They sit around the kitchen table, talking (and giving each other shit) for an hour or so before they hear another set of tires coming up the drive. Warren clearly _tries_ to keep a poker face, but he kind of fails. It’s fucking adorable, really. 

He tips his chair back to look out the kitchen window, then swears and jumps up. “Fuck me, he let the infant drive.” He hurries to the front door, followed by the sound of laughter. 

Gerard tips his head against Grant’s shoulder and giggles ’til he can’t breathe.

* * *

Once Kieron and Jamie’s things have been hauled inside—into the bedroom closest to Warren’s, not that Grant would dream of commenting—Warren starts banging around in the kitchen working on dinner. The rest of them gather round in the living room to chat, except Jamie, who slips into the kitchen to help. 

Gerard is happily talking to Matt and Kieron about some esoteric Eighties band, so Grant sits next to Kelly Sue. “Hey there, Mr. Boss-man,” she says, grinning at him.

“I know Kristan told you via email, but I am loving your draft,” Grant tells her. 

“I read that email every time I want to delete my hard drive out of frustration,” Kelly tells him with a smile.

Grant smiles back. “Hard drive deletion is rarely the answer, I’ve found. And anyway, I’m very glad we’re going to get a chance to publish you.”

She grins at him. “I’m glad too. I’ve been looking for the right place and I’m pretty sure I found it. ”

“A couple dozen friends just like you and we’ll have to take on more editors,” Grant grins back.

“You’ll lead the revolution,” Kelly Sue tells him, raising her coffee mug in salute.

Grant laughs. “That was never my intent, but if that’s what fate wants, who am I to deny her?”

“Messiah complexes are so attractive,” Gerard murmurs, leaning over to put in his two cents. Grant laughs and tweaks his ear. “Go back to your music talk.”

Gerard smiles at him and kisses his cheek. Grant smiles back. Having Gerard in his life has been right up there with starting the press. 

Gerard stays with him, playing with Grant’s fingers and grilling Kelly Sue on her manuscript until Warren announces dinner. Grant is completely unsurprised when Jamie and Kieron take seats across from each other on either side of Warren at the head of the table. Warren proceeds to tease the hell out of Jamie throughout much of dinner, with various other guests either egging him on or defending Jamie. The entire thing is hilarious and by the end, Gerard is leaning on the his hand on the table _crying_ with laughter. 

Grant isn’t doing too much better himself. He admits he’s done his fair share of consuming the wine from the empty bottles decorating the table. But given Matt, Kelly and Gerard all avoid the stuff, no one’s had a ridiculous amount. It’s purely the company. Even Warren is smiling. Grant didn’t even have this much fun at the party. 

He catches Warren pressing a hand against the small of Jamie’s back as they all head back to the comfort of the sitting room. Grant can’t quite bring himself to make comment on it. He just reaches out and squeezes Gerard’s shoulder. 

Gerard smiles at him and steps close enough to wrap an arm around Grant’s waist. “Hey,” he murmurs. “Glad we’re here.” 

“As am I,” Grant replies and leans in to kiss him softly. 

* * *

Gerard mostly leans against Grant after dinner, feeling warm and sleepy. He watches the heated card game that Matt, Kelly Sue, Warren, and Kieron are playing- Jamie is heckling- and occasionally offers comments of his own. Grant runs his fingers through Gerard’s hair.

He’s ready for them to escape upstairs, but the game is going strong and Gerard wants to see it end. Wants to see if any of the three crack. Matt does some of the heavy lifting for them, teasing Warren and Kieron about secret signals. 

When Kieron throws down his cards triumphantly, crowing about his victory, Warren actually smiles at him and claps him on the shoulder. Kieron grins at him and Jamie leans in to kiss Kieron’s cheek. They’re fucking cute. He whispers something in Kieron’s ear, and Kieron’s eyes cut to Warren. Aha. 

Gerard snickers, and Grant tugs at a strand of his hair. “Victory is close,” he murmurs.

“So close I can taste it,” Gerard says. 

“I’d rather taste _you_ ,” Grant whispers. 

“Oh fuck, yes please,” Gerard whispers back. 

Smoothly, Grant maneuvers them both to their feet. “We’re headed to bed,” he announces.

Warren smirks at them and Gerard just smiles sweetly. “Have fun tonight, guys.” 

“Get out of here,” Warren grumbles. Grant just laughs and tugs Gerard out of the room.

They go upstairs and the second they get the door to their room closed, Grant’s tugging at the hem of his shirt. “I missed you,” he whispers.

“I’ve been right here,” Gerard teases.

“Not the same,” Grant says. “Missed touching your skin, kissing you for as long as I want.”

“I think maybe there’s something I’ve been missing,” Gerard tells him, arching with pleasure as Grant’s fingers find his nipples under his shirt.

“Hmm?” Grant says, bending to mouth at Gerard’s neck.

“Your cock,” Gerard tells him seriously. He cracks up a second later, but he makes up for it by grabbing Grant and grinding their hips together. Grant nips him, and Gerard squeals and squirms. Grant changes it to an open-mouthed kiss to his throat. “I really like your mouth,” Gerard tells him.

“Good,” Grant murmurs against his throat. “I intend to use it on you.”

“I really like your cock,” Gerard emphasizes, even though he knows Grant ignored his first hint on purpose.

“Well, that’s also an option,” Grant tells him.

“A really bloody good option,” Gerard says. “I approve of it.”

“So glad you do, Yank.” Grant smirks and keeps undressing Gerard, taking his time about it.

“C’mon, baby,” Gerard moans.

Grant chuckles when Gerard reaches to pull Grant’s shirt off. He’s enjoying himself, clearly. Gerard takes a deep breath and slows down. He can tease too. He draws the hem of Grant’s shirt up, pausing along the way to bend and mouth at Grant’s stomach, his nipples.

“Mmm,” Grant moans and helps Gerard pull his shirt up over his head. 

He shifts his mouth to Grant’s collar bones. Grant hums and tangles a hand in Gerard’s hair to hold him where he is. Gerard slides his tongue into the dip between Grant’s clavicles and then sucks the same spot. “Fuck, you taste good,” he says, kissing his way down.

He slips his fingertips underneath Grant’s waistband. Grant hums and Gerard gets his trousers open and tugs them down his legs. He tugs on the waistband of Grant’s briefs with his teeth because he knows it will make Grant laugh.

“Filthy,” Grant says, low and approving. 

Gerard smiles up at him and leans in to nuzzle at the base of Grant’s cock. “Been wanting to do this for so long.”

“Not stopping you,” Grant answers.

“Hmm,” Gerard agrees, mouthing at one of Grant’s balls. He wraps a hand around Grant’s cock and kisses his way up to the head. He swipes his tongue over the head and Grant pulls in a sharp breath. 

He just licks for a moment, exploring Grant’s cock with his tongue, tasting and teasing. “Gerard,” Grant moans, when Gerard oh-so-lightly scrapes his teeth along the underside of Grant’s cock. 

He pulls back, a grin twisting his lips, and looks up. “Want something?” 

“Your fucking mouth,” Grant moans. “Your tongue. Everything.”

“I want you to fuck me, though,” Gerard murmurs.

Grant laughs, low and rich.   “We’ll get there, love. I promise you, I will fuck you before the night is over.” 

“Okay,” Gerard breathes and takes Grant’s cock in his mouth. It’s so fucking good. It’s everything he has pictured. Grant is fuckin’- big, and Gerard moans as he takes Grant as deep as he can. 

Grant moans too and runs his fingers through Gerard’s hair. Gerard starts moving his head, flicking his tongue as he sucks. “You’re fucking _good_ at this,” Grant laughs, more than a little breathlessly. Gerard takes Grant further into his mouth and swallows around the head of his cock. Grant moans and his fingers tighten in Gerard’s hair. “Really good. Christ, Gerard.” 

Gerard just keeps moving his head and his hand, stroking slowly at the base. He grabs Grant’s ass with his other hand and pulls him in even closer.

“Gerard. Fuuuuck,” Grant moans. Gerard just works his tongue against the underside of Grant’s cock. He seems extra sensitive there. Gerard files it away; he wants to learn everything about Grant. Gerard’s own cock is aching, but he’s focused. He wants to bring Grant to the edge. Wants him to lose control a little. 

Gerard lets his fingers dance over Grant’s balls again, then behind them to trace his opening. Grant’s hand tightens in his hair and he moans. “Fuck- oh _fuck_ , Gerard, you-” 

Gerard keeps sucking, keeps working his mouth around Grant’s cock. Grant pants above him, fingers tightening and relaxing in his hair. Finally he stiffens and tugs Gerard off his cock. “Enough, love. I can’t -” He breathes hard. “Don’t want to come until I’m inside you.”

Gerard moans into the crease of Grant’s thigh and presses a hand against his dick, because he doesn’t want to come until Grant’s fucking him, either. 

Grant runs his fingers through Gerard’s hair. “Next time, I’m going to come down your throat.”

“Anything,” Gerard whispers. He pushes himself back up to the head of the bed and drapes himself over Grant. “Tell me what to do.”

“First, kiss me,” Grant orders, and Gerard is more than happy to comply. They kiss for several long minutes. Gerard can’t help moving his hips against Grant’s just a little. Grant murmurs approval and runs his hands up and down Gerard’s back.

“Ah!” Gerard gasps, when Grant’s fingers brush across the dip in his spine. It’s kind of a _spot_ for him, and from the way Grant is grinning, he can tell. Gerard takes a deep breath. “I need you.” 

“I am entirely yours, love,” Grant tells him.

“Then fuck me,” Gerard says, grinding up against him. “C’mon- want you so bad, baby, I’m so fucking hard.”

Grant smiles and rolls Gerard over onto his stomach. “Your wish is my command.” He lifts off Gerard and leans off the bed, fishing lube out of his bag. Gerard laughs a little, hitching into a moan when Grant slips his fingers down- brushing over the dip in Gerard’s spine again - and down to trace the crack of Gerard’s ass.

He breathes in and closes his eyes. Fuck, he loves this part. He’s only sorry he can’t see it, because Grant has gorgeous hands. “Next time,” he mumbles, arching his back, and Grant laughs at him a little as he pushes a finger in. Gerard moans and his hips buck back against Grant’s hand. “Fuck, Grant.”

“Yes, of course. Christ, Gerard. You feel so tight already.”

“Been a while,” Gerard tells him, twisting his hips a little.

Grant’s lips brush over the small of his back. “I’ll go slow.” He keeps his word, and slow is torture, but Gerard loves every second, makes noises of encouragement so Grant won’t stop. “Beautiful,” Grant murmurs into the skin of Gerard’s shoulder. 

“Grant,” Gerard whispers. “More. I can take more now.”

Grant adds a finger, and each thrust gets easier. Gerard squirms against the sheets, begging. “You love this,” Grant marvels, and Gerard groans out a wordless response.

Grant gives him another finger. Gerard moans again. “Yes. Grant. Please.”

“I can fuck you now,” Grant offers with a chuckle.

“Just a little more,” Gerard pleads, hitching his hips up. “C’mon, Grant, baby, _please_ -”

Grant fucks him slow and steady with his fingers, bending them to brush over Gerard’s prostate. 

“Hnng,” Gerard says into the mattress. “Again. Fuck.” 

“Here?” Grant asks, crooking his fingers again, hitting that spot just right.

“Yesssss,” Gerard hisses. “Fuck yes. So good.”

“How much more can you take?” Grant murmurs, thrusting his fingers and mouthing at the base of Gerard’s spine again.

“Please,” Gerard gasps, and he doesn’t fucking know what he’s asking for anymore. “Please, please, please, Grant, ah-”

Grant strokes into him slow, dragging his fingers over Gerard’s sweet spot one last time before shifting. “Are you ready for me, love?” he whispers in Gerard’s ear. 

“Yes,” he moans. “God, please.” 

“Are you staying like this?” Grant asks him.

Gerard doesn’t think he could move if he wanted to. “Next time,” he gasps. “Next time, we can- just, please.” He twists his head to look back at Grant and says, “Now.”

Grant leans in and kisses him quick and intense. Gerard hears the crack of the lube cap and the sound of a condom wrapper and then it feels like a million years before Grant is getting in position and the head of his cock is pressing against him and slowly inside. 

Gerard makes an involuntary noise and bites down on his forearm. Grant’s cock feels huge, overwhelming, and he’s working himself inside with slow thrusts that are driving Gerard out of his _mind_ with how good it feels.

“Gerard,” Grant moans in his ear. “Fuck. Fuck, you feel…” Grant trails off and presses his forehead between Gerard’s shoulder blades. “I’m so mad about you,” he murmurs against Gerard’s skin.

“Me too,” Gerard gasps. He’s writhing against the bed, desperate.

Grant keeps his thrusts steady, despite Gerard’s desperation. He’s covering Gerard’s body, every inch, an arm wrapped around his chest, another reaching down and - fuck - jacking Gerard’s cock. Slowly. Gerard is losing his fucking _mind_. Everything is so slow and so good and Gerard doesn’t want it to stop. He thinks he could do this forever. 

“Grant,” he murmurs. “Want you, want you, never stop.”

“Don’t worry, love,” Grant says, lips against Gerard’s ear. He keeps moving, letting his thumb drag over the head of Gerard’s cock. Gerard moans. He’s dimly glad their room is somewhat isolated from the others. 

Grant shifts, arms tightening, pulling Gerard up into his lap, against his chest. Gerard’s head sags back onto Grant’s shoulder, and Grant kisses him, and it’s deep and lush— exactly like their kisses on Gerard’s couch had been, that first night, except that this time Gerard has Grant’s hand on his cock and Grant’s cock in his ass, and he feels like he might just burn up from the force of it all. He laces his fingers with Grant’s on his chest and rolls his hips up into Grant’s hand and back onto his cock. 

“Yes,” Grant hisses. “Christ, love, that’s nice. Again.” He sounds ragged too, like he’s ready.

“C’mon,” Gerard murmurs, rolling his hips again and muffling Grant’s gasp with a kiss. “C’mon, baby. Just a little- ah- just a little bit more.”

They get their bodies in sync and start moving together. Neither of them can manage words anymore, just moans and gasps. Grant speeds up his hand on Gerard’s cock. Gerard rides Grant’s thrusts, breathing wetly into his neck until he feels the wave start in his groin and his spine.

“Grant,” he manages, gasping. “Gonna- gonna-”

“Come,” Grant says and Gerard does, arching up and then collapsing against Grant’s chest. Grant wraps both arms tightly around Gerard and thrusts up one more time before his hips stutter and he moans into Gerard’s neck. He stills against Gerard’s back, holding him close, and kisses the nape of Gerard’s neck. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Gerard says, when he finds his breath again. 

“Well-said,” Grant murmurs and kisses the side of his neck. 

“I’m a writer,” Gerard replies breathlessly. “Fuck, Grant. I. That was worth the wait.”

“Completely,” Grant agrees. He maneuvers them back down to the bed until they’re sprawled on their sides, face to face. Then he tangles his hand in Gerard’s hair and kisses him again. 

Gerard sinks into it, hands coming up to frame Grant’s face.  He loses track of time again, comes out of the kiss with a gasp and a sleepy murmur. “I think you may be magic.”

“I’ll take that,” Grant tells him, solemn. He pulls away, and Gerard makes an unhappy noise: Grant kisses it away. “I’ll be right back, love. We’re filthy.” Gerard laughs and rolls onto his back. Filthy, maybe, but he hasn’t felt this good in a long fucking time. 

Grant returns and pokes and prods at him until he helps clean them up and get them under the covers. He wraps his arms around Gerard and pulls him close, and Gerard gives him a drowsy smile. He can’t remember the last time he felt this _good_. He leans in to kiss Grant and it’s slow and lazy. It’s kind of perfect. 

*

Gerard wakes up the next morning with Grant spooned around him, and spends a long time just enjoying it. The house is quiet. There’s a sunbeam coming in through a crack in the drapes and splashing across their tangled arms. Gerard is warm and a little sore, and it’s fantastic. 

“Good morning, love,” Grant croaks in his ear. 

“Tried not to wake you,” Gerard whispers.

Grant laughs a little, scratchy. “I don’t mind. It’s a lovely way to wake up.”

Gerard covers Grant’s hand with his and pulls it up to kiss his palm. “Possibly the best way to wake up. I was thinking about going for some coffee. I thought maybe I could bring some back for you.”

“Mmmm,” Grant murmurs, rubbing his face against the back of Gerard’s neck and inhaling. “That sounds perfect.” 

Gerard doesn’t move yet, though. Grant keeps holding him, hand sliding up and down his chest. “Okay,” Gerard finally says. “I’m gonna go get us coffee and then we can continue this.”

“I could come with you,” Grant offers. “Together, we’re twice as likely to succeed.” 

Gerard laughs. “Together, then.” 

They manage to pull apart and throw on some clothes before heading out to the kitchen. It’s early and they’re quiet, so that means when they get to the door of the kitchen, no one already in the room hears them. There are three inhabitants, all preoccupied. Kieron, holding Jamie’s hand, and Warren leaning down to kiss him. 

“I knew it,” Gerard blurts. He kicks himself a second later, when all three of their heads whip around to face him and Grant. 

Warren sighs heavily. “Fuck you both,” he says. He draws Jamie against his chest, though. 

“You might as well just come clean,” Grant says, hand settling on Gerard’s waist. “We’ll stop if you do, promise.”

Kieron snorts and gives Warren a wry look. “Told you there was no way we’d be able to keep it up this weekend.” 

Warren rolls his eyes heavenward and huffs, “Fine. Yes, you’ve all been right. Who won the damn bet?” 

Gerard giggles. “I did,” Grant says smugly.

“I expect that my whiskey will be of the highest quality,” Warren tells them, sternly. 

Jamie laughs and kisses Warren on the cheek. “This means we can get in on the PDA, right? Seriously, you lot are disgusting.” 

Gerard cracks up. “I suppose it’s only fair.” Grant catches him around the waist then and dips him back. “Not before coffee,” Gerard complains. Grant laughs and pecks him on the lips. He sets Gerard upright and Warren pulls away from Jamie to set the coffee going. 

Jamie folds around Kieron and whispers in his ear for a moment, then follows Warren. Gerard suspects they haven’t seen the last of that phenomenon. Kieron motions Grant and Gerard towards at the kitchen table. Grant folds down into a chair and tugs Gerard down with him, so Gerard ends up sprawled in Grant’s lap with Grant’s arms around his waist; he can’t say he minds too much. He feels ridiculous, but not enough to stop. He suppose that’s what being newly in love is all about. 

Kieron smiles at him. Gerard smiles back. “Sorry,” he says. 

“No, it’s all right,” Kieron replies. “Secrets are only fun for so long.”

“How long, if I might ask?” Grant gives Kieron a curious look. “I didn’t suspect anything until two or three months ago.”

“About six, seven months at this point,” Kieron replies.  

“How clandestine of you.” Gerard hides a smile in Grant’s shoulder.

“We knew you’d all be ridiculous about it,” Kieron tells them. “And anyway, it started off as just a casual thing.”

Grant chuckles. “I can see how that would change quickly with the three of you.”

Kieron glances over at Jamie. “He’s -” He stops, and shrugs. “It works.”

“I’m glad,” Gerard says with a smile. 

“I like seeing him like this,” Grant murmurs. 

“Domestic?” Kieron asks, and Grant chuckles. 

“That. But also, you two make him happy.”

Kieron smiles. “We try. He deserves it.” 

“He does,” Grant agrees. 

“Coffee,” Warren interrupts, bringing two mugs over.

“Coffee,” Gerard echoes, wrapping his hands around his mug and sticking his nose in it. He feels Grant’s laugh in his chest. He takes a long sip and even though he was already feeling good, he immediately starts feeling even better. 

“You’re fucking a Brit, the least you could do is make that face over tea,” Warren needles. 

“A _Scot_ ,” Grant retorts. 

“He has a point. Jamie drinks whiskey now,” Kieron deadpans. 

Jamie looks pleadingly at Gerard. “Is it too late for us to go back into work this weekend?” 

“You picked ’em,” Gerard laughs.

“I did,” Jamie sighs, looking balefully at Kieron, who’s giving him a cheerful grin. Warren is scowling, of course, but his lips are definitely twitching. Gerard takes another long drink of coffee and smiles into his mug. 

Everyone subsides back into morning beverages for a while, and eventually Grant tugs on a lock of Gerard’s hair for attention. “I think we had a plan for after coffee,” he murmurs.

Gerard turns and grins at him. “We totally did. We should go do that.”

“Maybe we should all go back to our rooms,” Jamie says. 

Gerard laughs and gets to his feet, pulling Grant up behind him. “See you three at a more reasonable hour?”

“Much more reasonable,” Warren grumbles. “This one with a day job is like a fucking puppy.”

“I haven’t pissed on your carpet once, Warren,” Jamie protests. 

“And you will continue not to,” Warren replies. “Or you will get the newspaper.” 

Grant tugs Gerard down the hall and up the stairs to the sound of Kieron laughing.

*

The rest of the weekend is great relaxing (and exhausting, but in fun ways) in equal measure. Matt and Kelly Sue are awesome, and Gerard’s glad they’ll be headed back to London for a bit after this. And now that Warren, Kieron, and Jamie aren’t trying to keep secrets, they seem to be in some kind of a competition over who can ruffle the other ones’ feathers the most. It’s pretty much hilarious. Gerard spends a lot of the time he and Grant aren’t fucking, laughing. 

He’s sorry to load his bag back into Grant’s car on Monday. He glances up at the door, where Jamie is leaning on Warren. “Don’t forget to come back to work tomorrow!”

“Wouldn’t dream of it. Can’t let you have all the fun, can I?” Jamie laughs and waves him off. 

Gerard gets in the car and they drive away. “You have to take me to _your_ house next.”

“Yes, I’d like to. Soon.” Grant takes Gerard’s hand briefly and squeezes. “First, back to your flat, where I will come in and stay as long as I possibly can.” 

Gerard grins. “Stretching out the weekend?”

“It has been a lovely weekend,” Grant replies. 

“It has,” Gerard agrees. “And I really fucking want to blow you for real.”

“No argument there,” Grant says easily.

“I’m shocked.” Grant just laughs, and Gerard grins and curls up in his seat, listening to the growl of the car as they drive towards home.

Home comes soon enough and parking is the biggest fucking pain, but they finally grab their bags and make their way toward Gerard’s apartment. Nick is sitting on the front stoop when they get there, and he gives them one of his fantastic ear-to-ear grins. “Hullo, Gerard, Gerard’s boyfriend.”

Gerard grins back. “Nicholas, Grant. Grant, this is Nick, who assures me that he’s going to be on television one day.”

“I am,” Nick says confidently with a bright grin. “It’s nice to meet you, Gerard’s-boyfriend-Grant. He’s been talking about you for months.”

“He hasn’t been my boyfriend for months,” Grant says with an amused glance at Gerard.

Gerard blushes a little bit. “I maybe had a thing.” 

“I am shocked, Mr. Way,” Grant teases. 

“You had a thing too,” Gerard reminds him. 

“Well, now, this is getting dirty,” Nick says. 

“Like you mind,” Gerard retorts. 

Nick grins and raises his hands. “Hey, I never said it was a bad thing. Do go on, loves.”

Gerard blushes and rolls his eyes. “Goodbye, Nicholas,” he says and pulls Grant into his apartment. 

“You’re going to tell him all sorts of naughty things next time you meet, aren’t you?” Grant teases. 

“Rather do naughty things,” Gerard replies.

“Hmm,” says Grant, agreeably, and he lets Gerard tug him through the door to his flat with a minimum of fuss. Gerard drags him directly to the bedroom and falls on his knees in front of Grant. 

Grant laughs and unbuckles his belt, backing up a step to the mattress. “Yeah,” Gerard says, grinning as Grant gets his cock out. He’s been up close and personal with it a lot this weekend, but this is a view he hasn’t had yet. He grabs at Grant’s hips and presses close, savoring.

Grant runs his fingers through Gerard’s hair. “Love seeing you like this,” he murmurs. 

“You make me crazy,” Gerard tells him. “But I love it.”

“Same, my darling,” Grant murmurs. “I don’t have words for the way you make me feel.” 

Gerard closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He wraps a hand around the base of Grant’s cock and leans in to take him in his mouth. His slow exhale keeps time with Grant’s low, satisfied groan.

“Wicked,” Grant says, low, his fingertips resting on the back of Gerard’s scalp. 

He slides his tongue slowly around the head of Grant’s cock, making sure he explores every millimeter. His mouth is watering, he wants this so badly. By the time he starts sucking he can feel his pulse pounding in his head, his throat, his groin.

“So good,” Grant murmurs. “Your mouth is so fucking perfect, Gerard.”

Gerard hums in the back of his throat, which makes Grant moan. Grant’s fingers feel good in his hair. Gerard pushes into them a little and pulls back to lick some more, hand still working the base. Grant’s fingers tighten, just a little, but enough that it shoots straight to Gerard’s cock. His knees are starting to get sore and he doesn’t fucking care. He wraps his lips around the head and sucks some more. 

Grant is breathing hard now, and Gerard thinks he’ll come soon, wants it like burning. 

“Gerard,” Grant moans. “Oh, fuck me, Gerard-” 

He removes his hand from the base of Grant’s cock and takes Grant further into his mouth. He wishes he could take it all - he’ll learn, if he can, for Grant - but he can’t, so he just keeps his mouth moving, bobbing his head to keep the hot wet pressure going. To keep those moans falling out of Grant’s mouth.

Grant’s losing it now, hips jerking, and Gerard moves with him and sucks and wills Grant to let go. He does half a second later, fingers flexing and holding Gerard’s hair and his taste floods Gerard’s mouth. 

Gerard pulls off and swallows automatically and then moans, collapsing against Grant. He’s so hard he’s dizzy but that was so fucking good.

Grant grabs at him as soon as his breath comes back, hauling him up and then pulling them both down onto the bed. He crawls up and covers Gerard’s body with his own, dropping messy kisses on any patch of Gerard’s skin that he can reach.

“Grant, please,” he begs. “Need you. Anything.” 

Grant reaches down and starts jacking him off, kissing him at the same time, his free hand tangled in Gerard’s hair. Gerard moans and arches his back, one hand fisting the covers beside him and the other cupping the back of Grant’s head. 

“Fuck,” he gasps. “Love your hands. _Grant._ ”

“Gerard, love, they’re all yours.” Grant kisses his cheeks, chin, neck, lips; he’s everywhere, all over him, and Gerard can’t fucking _begin_ to deal with how good it all feels. He’s going to come soon and he doesn’t even have his clothes all the way off. He doesn’t fucking care. 

Grant’s hand is hot and tight and twists just the right way, and he groans and arches up and comes with a shudder. Grant leans down and presses their lips together, swallowing Gerard’s moans. Gerard wraps his arms around Grant’s neck and clings. 

“That was so good,” Gerard whispers. “Fuck, I really just -”

“Yes,” Grant says, kissing along Gerard’s jaw. “Fuck, yes. To everything. You’re amazing, love.”

“So fucking glad we decided to do this,” Gerard murmurs. He tips his head to the side to give Grant better access. 

“I’m keeping you,” Grant tells him.

“I’m really fucking okay with that,” Gerard agrees. “Fuck, I’m glad we decided to stop going slow. I mean, you were right, slow can be great, but…”

Grant chuckles. “Yes. The anticipation was delicious, and now we get to savor each other however we like.”

“I wish you didn’t have to leave. I wish I didn’t have to go to work.”

Grant kisses his temple. “Someday, if it pleases you, you are going to be able to quit that job and write full-time. It gives me great pleasure to know that I might play some small part in that.”

Gerard smiles and kisses Grant again. “I think you mean a big fucking part.”

“Perhaps not as your editor, but I would hope as something else.”

“You’re definitely something else,” Gerard says, sliding his hand up to cup Grant’s cheek. “Thank you.”

Grant’s smile softens. “It has been a privilege, I assure you.”

Gerard stretches after a moment and grins. “That’s what all the boys say.”

“Oh?” Grant asks, raising an eyebrow. “Am I going to need to fend off your other suitors, Gerard?” 

“No other suitors at this time,” Gerard say. “Unless you count Nicholas. Which I don’t.”

“He’s rather lovely,” Grant agrees. “But I am not concerned, love. Perhaps I’ll just carry you off to Scotland.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” Gerard tells him, smiling. “Another weekend? Alone, this time.”

“Absolutely,” Grant says. “Just you and me and my drafty house. Next weekend?” 

“Sounds perfect,” Gerard says, honestly. “Might have to mix a bit of business with pleasure, though. I’ve got an editor who’s kind of a hardass, expects me to be working on revisions to my book.”

“I think we can manage some work in between all the fucking,” Grant says. “And if we’re in the same room, I can reward your progress.”

“Oh. Well, you should have led with that.” Gerard pulls Grant’s face down to kiss him again.

“Gerard,” Grant murmurs, when they break apart again. “You are extraordinary.” 

“I could say the same about you,” Gerard says, fingers tracing over Grant’s face. 

“I’ll take it.” Grant smiles and kisses Gerard’s fingers. “We are extraordinary together, this I know.”

Gerard grins at Grant; kisses him, and wraps himself around him. Eventually, he’ll have to let Grant go home. Eventually, he’ll need to get back to his design work, and to turning his manuscript into the book he knows (and Grant seems to believe) it’s meant to be. But for now, he’s more than happy to be here. 

“Okay,” he murmurs to himself, and Grant hums his agreement.

* * *

_One Year Later_

When Gerard had told Jamie that he was putting in his notice, Jamie had been as good as his word, and (with Kieron’s help, Gerard suspected) thrown together an impressive leaving do at their favorite pub down the road from the design firm offices. Gerard sips Diet Coke and laughs ridiculously hard almost the entire evening. He’s going to miss these people. 

It probably won’t sink in for a few days, though, because he and Grant are going up to Dunoon tomorrow. He grins at his drink as he thinks about spending the whole next week with Grant, neither of them working. Just… relaxing. Gerard can’t fucking _wait_.

He’s kind of happy when the party finally winds down and everyone says their goodbyes. Gerard promises to stay in touch and finally heads toward home. The light is on in his front room when he walks up to his building, and he smiles.

Grant had been invited to the pub, but had graciously begged off, saying that he was in for a late night at the office. They’re still living out of two flats, but Gerard is pretty sure that’s not going to be the case for very much longer. Especially since they’re almost always together in one or the other. 

Grant has been at Gerard’s flat for the last three nights. Gerard is glad he’s there now. 

When he lets himself in the door, he sees a collection of takeaway boxes spread over his coffee table and Grant’s jacket, discarded, but no Grant. Gerard sets down his bag and shrugs out of his own coat. “Grant?” he calls. 

“Kitchen,” Grant calls. “Getting more coffee.” 

“Plan on being awake tonight?” Gerard asks with a grin, walking into the kitchen. 

“After you see this, rather hoping,” Grant says, setting his cup down and handing Gerard a package.

Gerard takes it and examines it, curiously. It’s rectangular, wrapped simply in brown butcher paper, and there’s nothing written on the outside. But the shape… His breath catches in his throat. “Is this…?” he tears open the paper. 

It’s his. His book, smelling fresh, paper crisp, cover colors perfect.

“Holy _fuck_ ,” he murmurs, staring at it. The skeletal drum major on the front stares back up at him with hollow eyes, just below the swirling letters of the book’s title.

Grant wraps his arms around Gerard from behind. “All yours. Will be going out to the shops soon,” Grant murmurs in his ear. 

“Amazing. Fuck, it’s gorgeous. I can’t believe it.” Gerard runs his fingers over the cover printing and leans back against Grant.

“Believe it,” Grant tells him, kissing his temple. “You wrote a brilliant fucking book. The first of many, I think.”

Gerard takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “Couldn’t have done it without you,” he whispers. 

“Ah, you could’ve,” Grant corrects. “You’re so very smart, love. But I think perhaps it wouldn’t have been done with such…panache.” He chuckles. 

Gerard laughs and twists back so he can kiss Grant for real. He can’t quite seem to let go of his book and he knows he’s jabbing Grant in the back. Grant ignores it and kisses him back. “So very proud to have been involved,” Grant murmurs in his ear. 

“First of many,” Gerard replies.

“Absolutely.” Grant gives him another long, lingering kiss, and then pulls back enough to take Gerard’s hand and tug. “Come on. There’s coffee, and curry in the living room. And tomorrow, Scotland.”

Gerard grins. “Yes. And from now on, I’m a professional writer. Or something.” 

“Strike that last. You are most definitely a professional.” Grant settles onto the couch and pulls Gerard down next to him. 

Gerard settles the book—his book, fuck—on the coffee table, not caring that he’s being a sap about it. Gerard leans against Grant’s side with a happy sigh. “My fucking book.” 

“I hope you’ll forgive me for thinking of it as ours,” Grant murmurs.

Gerard grins. “Fuck, yeah. Ours. The next one will be, too.” Grant kisses his temple and they both look at the book on the coffee table for a few moments. 

“Best pseudonymous submission I ever received, I must say,” Grant tells him. 

“Best risk I ever took,” Gerard replies. He busies himself getting the takeaway containers sorted and dishing up their plates. When he looks back at Grant, Grant is smiling at him warmly. He reaches out to cup Gerard’s cheek. “I am glad you took it for so many reasons. So many.”

“Want to list them?” Gerard teases. 

“Can’t,” Grant replies, stroking a thumb over Gerard’s cheekbone, “I’d have to write a book.”


End file.
